parodies in flesh. suck the poison's thumb. my beautiful monsters slowly turn ugly again. as the sun punches through the dirty windows I've forgotten to shut. all my ogres once soft are hard now. all those villains once quiet begin to shout.
he doesn't mean to, but he stares at his wrist. imagining the seconds are lifetimes. assuming the end is hidden in the middle.
she's tried on bigger tits. she's worn out all those sexy skins. they always go away. the bones all that are left. of dancing skeletons on knotted strings. and the hollow music that still demands their obedience.
she's argued with wind. it never listens. she's reasoned with the snow. it always falls for as long as it wishes. she's stood under the icicles. As they melted.
She's blamed the window. She's blamed the glass. But she knows the real monsters aren't out there.
Tuesday
10/19/2010 12:42:00 AM
Sad Labels:
daunted
,
nefarious
,
uncertainty
| Life Poems |