Saturday 4/04/2015 12:54:00 AM

the distance laughed out loud. an empty, roiling storm over a desert too arid to ever be quenched. the distance shivered. a naked child bereft of its mother's arms. throbbing in a curtain of hot tears as the miles thoughtlessly accrued.

the scenery stared back at her. as if she was there. swallowing her progress. in shallow cuts and dirty bandages.

the pull of the journey. sharp angles. blunt addictions. all the foul circumstance and tepid lectures any given moment can muster. the dubious philosophies of sour men and eager strangers. stilted embers in a dying fire. permanent creases in the confessions of touch. thin shadows pretending to know the sun.

in a world where geometry is a spoiled math. And choice is a failing science. we still like to believe in the wisdom of madness.

familiar paths maptheir geography in her sweat and exhaustion. the body is a brutal machine. sharp cogs. relentless pistons. powering a voracious engine. intent on going nowhere.

the distance withered under the cull of her stamina. farther haunts her. erupting ghosts focus their chains. vacant gravitys' tender their resignations. in corners. in arcs. in all the manic applause of desperation and hope.

she thought it far. but not such a  great distance. navigating the callous backdoor lovers keep.

she rode into the wind. taking its punches like medicine. no cure. just remission.

all those stunning cancers sleeping inside us. beautiful monsters romancing the hierarchy of fear.

flesh like traffic. stuck again. the architecture of distance erupting in used books and broken glasses. the borrowed reality of choice. the crippling temptations of when. all belt buckles and insulin. in hte diabetic frenzy that insists we are living.

the miles paused. ruled by hunger more than reason. the distance waited. still looking for the near.

she raged  against the distance. as it struggled  with her choices.

she drew her maps. lost. in a catastrophy of familiar intersections.

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