Thursday 5/16/2013 12:30:00 AM

the child in her heavy shoes. struggles to walk quietly. the burnt math of trembling fingers. as they touch. but fail to feel.

incredulous demon trying on abandoned halos.

laugh because the end was always there. frayed shoelaces and awkward left turns. on a journey without places. filled with synonyms for how to get there. years after there's nowhere left to go.

empty boxes. torn wrapppers. the mortgage of skin and other such devices. a commodity of indulgence. to barter or to leverage. the rich algebra of skin manipulates her. the stern science of humanity. like paper. so little surface. so many sharp edges.

no heroes. just curious villains pissing on capes.

0 comments:


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