Saturday 7/30/2016 01:49:00 AM

it dwindles. the curious drizzle that dampens the coldest corners. it begs. in thundering whispers and stale coffee. it bleeds. it stains. the color of how it is and what it never will be.

the pace of then goes at a gallop. the speed of how gives chase. the structure is panic. the foundation is a conundrum.

it wonders. it surmises. like so much sober in a world of waste. fingers swear the fist, though only beggars remain.

the fabric stretches. taut over the swelling intersections. the zipper chews and sticks. smaller still as it opens.

there are words enough. ugly bridges to connect all these places that we think we've been. the vague electricity of a stranger's touch. that leaves us as hollow as the beds we've spent.

how far we've come. how close we get. trembling matchsticks against the fury of the flame. hope's crazed apocalypse bends and scrapes. ripe scabs for the picking. heavy buckets. all those little stones begin to sink us.

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