Sunday 9/27/2009 12:33:00 AM

The singularity confides in us. The black hole puts our lives inside parenthesis. The machine struggles to keep up. With the frantic worries of the flesh. It happens too fast. I love and hate in just a few breaths. And then they are gone. Broken egg shells. Stiff yolks to drown in. The singularity fractures half-hearted gods. Diminishes all demons. The timeline swallows us whole. The present is something yet to be. The past is mutable. An equation. Divisible by our indiscretions. I've been counting all this while. Trying to keep track. Of all the things that haven't happened yet.

I'm left with only numbers. No faces to corroborate. The black holes that I know made us forget each other.

I find the compass in the drug. And navigate accordingly. Pretending I know where I am going. The hero of my story missing in action. I color the outlines darker on the lines around her lips. Because when she speaks it's as if the words are happening.

Negotiating with the time line. Small offerings of blood and sweat. Appease the bowels of the catalyst. The paperclip is undone. The lock is picked. The vault is open. The cavity is empty. Always has been.

The future drags us back. Sip by sip. The tin man stays stupid. The lion remains a coward. We give up on wizards. And begin to wish for home.

0 comments:


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