Tuesday 9/15/2009 12:43:00 AM

She waits for the alarm. Anticipating the fright. Eager for the chaos. Of anxious time machines. Failed by the constant. Accused by the universe of obvious treasons.

The alarm goes off. The sun bleats through the blinds. Reminding us which world we're in, but not indicating which is ours. Heavy pots of water. Come to a boil on open flames. The world is as small as it is large. And the spaces between it are where I find myself lost.

Each page comes into focus. The science surrenders to the meagers of flesh. I wake up. Unable to remember where I have been. But incapable of forgetting that I was there.

She warns me about the wizard. Thin curtains on the weakest of lies. I pick at those yellow bricks. Until my nails are bloody and all the monster are afraid to attack.

She wakes up without me there. Though I can see her from where I am. Some stranger drowning in the depths of my skin. Tiny sailboats struggling against the sand. As she counts the footprints.

She went back too far. The time machine was gone. She went back to find. What had forogtten her.

Her skin like a parachute opening up. Against the force of the fall.

0 comments:


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