steps. all thunder and epiphanies in a rigor of atonement. she didn't dream. didn't want to. the insipid perils of salvation. the wind. the pause. the expression. miles. inches. all the same.
skin. bone. intersections. their grave eiphoria. the insatiable hunger. their oblivious madness.
locked windows. broken ladders. we are strays. carrying our cages with us. we are thieves. who've stolen nothing. have merely been taken.
the miles. they accumulate. needles and thread. mending tears in failing maps. and the vapid economy of lovers and friends that leaves her bankrupt.
stop signs. borrowed moments. too far. too close. no difference.
the villains. the monsters. the stories. all the same. all of them. a mortgage of skin. every intimate moment an accumulating debt.
she waits for the signal to change. she can't see the colors. only the flow of traffic. only the groan of progress and it belches forward.
crossing. the deep intersections. the stiffening inclines. alone, like a ghost. driven on by the confidence of the void.
like a wound learning how to bleed.
Wednesday
12/09/2015 01:24:00 AM
| Life Poems |