Sunday 5/04/2008 12:31:00 AM

Wake up. The electricity is on again. Skipping through the walls. Headless zombies stumbling calmly toward more dead.

He was reading a magazine. About science. The way molecules arrange to become different elements. Hangmen of people. Games to guess what we already know. Turning pages in his head. Little slaps. On her ass. To fill in the question marks missing from her cheeks.

She was sleeping. Not dreaming at all. But trying hard to remember what it was like.

Answer me.

Or at least acknowledge you heard the question.

The world is a dress dripping with women. Buttons, sleeves and hems. Anticipating my every stitch. The needle. Choices. Bad ones. slithering through. Connecting the edges. Until I'm small enough to wear.

The world is a mountain made of pussies all bigger than the biggest dick.

It's easy to believe in everything. And nothing.

I tried to reason with the chasm.

It just said.

Wake Up.

I'm not the problem.

Shit your diaper. I might be the mess, but it's not for me to clean up.

Go to sleep. Dream more of your scarecrows. Nailed to empty crosses. Wake up. Pretend the dream is gone. That I can see again. That I know how far.

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2016. All Rights Reserved.