Monday 1/16/2012 12:04:00 AM

the world is always ending. on its toes. hungry. peering in at. the opulent feasts. of the powerful and the powerless. they are the same. always wanting. bluffing that they have.

sweet panties. dealt like cards. a steep ante to sit in on worthless hands.

waiting comes in bald exceptions. the dull blade gnawing on raw meat. the hunter kills, but refuses to prepare. the dead things to be consumed.

bitter candies melting in her hands. sweet enough to slow the clock. paint her palms in sour chocolate. a flood of intensity ripe with the wretch of imminent paradox. the thunder of patience. the stumble of weakness. pushpins in paper maps. stabbing at places unwilling to be found.

the fever on stilts. high above the disease. as if they are separate. the poison in small doses. bleeds a cure. and she bathes in the blood.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.