Monday 5/21/2012 01:02:00 AM

blood footprints. elevator eyes. gravity like splinters.

she's ugly with counting. soft names in the fury of when. the world was still young enough to give names to such trivial events. the volcano lacking lava. the ocean spitefully drowning.

soft bones. like clay. wet with the conviction of skin. numbers. draw their pictures in her sleep. the quiet nightmare of honesty. she steals the words from each moment that betrays her. listening to the world as it chokes. on its own arrogance.

the hours in pin pricks. a stammer of proximity. a circus of skin. overcome with clowns. an earthquake of choices. bored with tremors.

the whisper ignites. and we shout at the flames.

0 comments:


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