Friday 6/07/2013 12:31:00 AM

when the end comes it will be soft. cardboard eyes and clay tongues. trembling with whispers dew drops. the broken lamp. the dead switch. the tornado. all these things virulent inside her head. a long and painful infection.

the razor boasts blood and pus. only tendons interfere.

the bullet promises a quick oblivion. only cowardice poisons the plan.

the drugs leverage addiction and release. slow and deliberate. never enough. a thin spectre of death that tears at every tug.

the end comes in silence. a funeral absent words. and starving for the dead. a constant hunger.

tears in the glass listen to the wind. as it carries the darkness. deeper still. small infections spreading.

life is a treason.

the disease always wins.

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