Monday 10/17/2016 01:32:00 AM

the spectacle of want is the beauty in the abyss.

down there. bathing in the lost. it's almost enough.

the sharp angles boast their blood. the dense paths flaunt their many doors. yet i linger a while. unwilling to choose an exit.

i listen to the hum of gravity as it hunts. spilling hungry moments. and thoughts like confetti.

the sting of the perfect lies we let ourselves tell, easily penetrating what little of my defenses remain intact.

the edge is quiet. the surface is dark. everything else is gone.

muscles weaken. it's been a long journey. flesh chafes.

the world is bright and cold and wasted. like i am.

the end comes over and over, but i still i refuse it.

0 comments:


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