control decides her. failing clocks. struggle toward the twelve. in a slump of hunger. as loud as it is quiet. onion paper and velvet thumbs. fingernails of the monster. for the girl to chew on.
her skin defers to marrow and bone. the hard. the center. viscous and urgent with empty weapons. bloodless wars in silent parchment. each hour softly stabs at the growing hole.
skin is rapid. touch is adamant. vague ghosts shelter in the folds. of words soft and eager zippers. Too easily undone. By salted thumbs and sober fences. The clever lies that make the world hum. In shallow whispers. Filthy condoms. Absent gods. And coupon heavens.
her truth betrays her. auctioning surrender. in scraps of touch and the leather of her cunt. the hours listen. almost deaf. Mouthing the words to a fading song. She traces the moon. Her fingers long. Her shadow small. Chasing atoms with a hammer.
Tuesday
5/08/2012 12:56:00 AM
| Life Poems |