Sunday 8/10/2008 12:00:00 AM

Laughs the mimick in gelid chokes. A jelly smirk on rigid cheeks. I don't know love. And she doesn't know me. Strangers always. Strangers close enough to strangle each other. Fables taught in peeling skin. The moral always that I'm always naked. They can see all of me. Even from my hiding place.

New skin comes in retches. Bile. Acid. Flaunting up my throat. Spoiled badges of courage no one will read.

Choices. These clown shoes. Make me stumble. No matter how slowly I run. Lovers. These zippers behind my head won't stay closed.

Her face draw on her. By strangers with broken crayons. Her skin a dark outline on a blank page. Still waiting to be filled in.

It's not like I was trying. Was just pretending I knew what to do. With all these people.

The world isn't laughing at me. It doesn't even know I exist.

People. Random thieves. Empty graves. So amny keys we use as bait.

You want it to be over, but you're still sad when they stop trying to take it.

2 comments:
The Mad Celt said...

"Spoiled badges of courage no one will read"

Yeah...this I know. Like you have said, we know too much.

ap said...

too much. not enough. same in the end.



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