Thursday 8/11/2016 12:23:00 AM

the blood is a witness. the flesh is on trial. hope marches like broken soldiers off to wars already lost. we are spent. gluttons of surrender. merchants of consequence. travellers in our broken time machines. actors in gravity's drama.

the force of the moment erupts. as sudden as it is expected. it's a gentle violence. the burden of time. the luxury of patience. all the threads of intimacy that tend to unravel us.

the bruises are a measure. the pain is a yardstick.

the road snarls. the distance barks. it's all as far away as it's ever been. and closer than ever.

there's always flight. we soar. effortlessly lifted by the wind. then are quickly discarded. twisted by the force of impact. crushed by the velocity of our passions.

crippled, but determined to keep running hard.

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