Sunday 11/29/2009 12:38:00 AM

Parachutes without cords. The sky accelerating. The streets try to brake. Empty machines repel us forward. In a thoughtless discharge of energy. Warm bodies receive. The unexpected propulsion. But it's wasted on these idling bodies.

I'm always watching. That is my weakness. That the watching changes everything.

Everyday. The sun rises with a sense of entropy. Every night it sets with the same. The further I go back the less real this is. Angels looking for their underwear. Among the foul of wasted semen.

Paper dolls strung from arm to fist. Telling stories about loose belts. And hungry dogs. The meat is the same. Though she divides it differently. Since she decided it's as random as it isn't.

She wonders about. The cat in the chamber. Is it alive or dead. She watches. The chaos of loose skin. Struggling for bones that fit. The pieces experiment enough to convince her. It's the watching that broke them.

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