Sunday 9/07/2008 01:22:00 AM

The man was picking at the lock. Searching for the key she'd swallowed. The mud in her underwear. Smudges of cunt fracturing eager kings. Short dialogues on why it's over.

Wake up dear, he whispered. In cold ions. Trips of hydrogren too far from the clock. Long shadows trace the journey not taken. Time takes. Doesn't give. The future finds us. In hiccups of then.

Time, she giggled. It doesn't listen.

My love, he said. When you're ready to hear I will tell you. All the things I've never said.

That's a beautiful promise. Still I've heard it before. Too often.

Stumbling strangers. Convinced they know. Where I have been.

Tucking into the time machine. Pirates. Cheated by their treasures.

0 comments:


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