Sunday 12/29/2013 11:42:00 PM

softly the world ends. at the coax of hollow terminals. and the choke of empty prescriptions. her gentle ambitions never did her justice. whispers amongst the chaos. the skin is the last step. the final threshold. the humble lock on a deeper treasure chest.

the colors have their portions. the science of circumstance. as it focuses its ripples on the stilted silence. worms in the earth. the always moving soil. microscopic quakes carving their veins in the world.

the end is always close. when the edge is where you choose to play.

the wind remembers. the shadows keep count. the longer we drift, the more likely we are to be found.

the flame manifests in angles both acute and obtuse. a prism of choices bathed in the blood of circumstance.

a fraction of when is everything.

0 comments:


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