Monday 10/30/2017 11:23:00 PM

she said the quiet had become too loud. all broken pencils and cracked chalkboards. in the relentless composite of want.

we searched the silence. stumbling as we did. over the fragile templates flesh insists. hopelessly indebted to the promises of when.

he built his bridges from the memories. hoping she would cross.

they spoiled in their friction. petulant children wanting another piece of candy.

she let the years overtake her. youth a fading treason.

they went there. all the miles churning like syrup. a sweet suffocation.

she was listening to the pain. dancing to its endless song.

10/23/2017 11:36:00 PM

the wind was unconvinced. as we made our way closer to the edge. the faded colors. the broken crutches. all the usual patrons of blood and sweat.

the moment spent her. as moments are just to do. in slips of chaos. in murmurs of gone.

the end of the world came and went. in broken crayons. in puddles of piss.

we die more than enough before it's over. in shallow splinters. in deep bruises. tissue remembers even as we forget. the casual apocalypses of  romance and friendship.

it's loud. until it isn't. the fundamental sober. of liars and lovers.

we'll wait.

there's time enough to regret our choices after we're dead.

Wednesday 10/18/2017 12:22:00 AM

the yellow thump of gratitude struggles. in the vague nausea of partially controlled intersections. the dichotomy of skin fails. as both a deterrant and a catalyst. the pandemonium of want. solves us before we can even begin to parse the math.

we're animals. alive at the corners. dead in the middle.

the maps are loud. the roads are deaf. no language. other than desire. the grim expectations of the wounded.

we find each other. between the raindrops. on the cusp of the wind. we play the game. as if winning is an option.

the distance measures us. in tungsten and sulfur. love our primitive time machine. and the years much too sober.

Friday 10/13/2017 01:30:00 AM

i saw only the particles. as the whole finally made impact. i argued with the intersection. as it shed its stories. in collisions and near misses.

the angles graceless. the speed without expectation. flesh only a form of momentum. thought just a pandemonium of choices.

it struck swiftly and without remorse. the timeline merely coincidence. the bruises sold their panic. all the volatile commodities of flesh. pressing their advantage.

there wasn't a number. distance just went on its way. and we tried to keep up.

it was far. corrupt epiphanies. seldom lovers.

we tried to convince the world.

we couldn't even convince ourselves.

Thursday 10/12/2017 10:33:00 PM

turn into the wind. wear the storm. in broken buckles and fraying knots.

say it's over. assert power. in sweat and bruises.

we're gone. alone in the panic. a template of flesh pungent with choices. all spent by the past. on expired time machines and placebo medicines.

we're fast. swift on the whims of our sickness. the rancid meat. the stale bread.  all of these blights making us rich.

leveraging the cure. like the perfect peasants that we are.

the world turns on empty fists. smaller now, than it's ever been. hopelessly corrupt.infinitely divided. 

we drown in our virtue. we suffocate in our righteousness. the poison is us.

Wednesday 10/04/2017 10:56:00 PM

parables of skin tell us. in hungry highways. and empty bridges. the distance tantamount. to our fetid  epiphanies. our little time machines can only take us so far.

practical flesh and hysterical connections. the epidemic of want eventually destroys us.

the turns betray. the miles infect. we're travellers always.of the worst kind. lacking the integrity of a destination. bitter hitchhikers on grace's desolate expanse.

how close we are. how far we've come. the dull razors upon which we dance.

the chemistry of when begins to laugh. but we've heard that joke before.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved.