Thursday 11/21/2013 01:29:00 AM

jagged edges tell their stories. in sips of wine and doses of skin. the void romances her. the dead are loud. the end is quiet.

want suffers no masters. we are free to covet. the needle bargains with the thread. simple stitches overhwelmed by the hole they try to mend.

ghosts tell their stories. as they are given to do. long bouts in pergatory. and its precarious views to heaven.

wounds fester. sick with the suggestion. that this time machine is ours to murder.

we follow. everything does. in its own sickness. a cancer of questions steadily solve her. the science of if. the madness of when. like so many empty skins still in the shape of us.

a powerful silence. a louder confession. the hours that conspire to define us. lay there. gentle hammers. bargaining with gravity.

0 comments:


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