Tuesday 12/22/2015 03:05:00 AM

the lines are gentle. the corners are sharp. an abundance of saviors in a famine of edens.

she went to the water. disappointed by its indfference. she found the edge far less dramatic that had been promised.

she was looking for a place she had been before. though she knew places tend to forget.

she had been drawing in color all those years. never realizing how grey the world was.

the closed door waited. like a child breathless over a gift. beaten by the shadows. bruised by indifference.

an obsolete oligarchy. rich with hunger.

the sweet poison of fading epiphanies. like empty rooms and rusted razors. the door bites down on lurking skeletons. but the meat is gone.

0 comments:


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