Wednesday 4/18/2018 11:02:00 PM

turned by the corner. worn by the war. in splinters of skin that fester in the creases of our want. too small to see. too big to ignore.

moments are all she knows. the hum of yellow in a sea of red.

the bite of time in the pinch of the wind. as the weather solves us. like little puzzles with far too many pieces.

the end's limp parade marches forward. heavy with the specter of consent. paling against the math of when. dragging its empty baskets. hauling its weighted nothings. pressing the buttons on lingering scars.

the cold's sour candy still sticky on summer's lips. as the sun peddles its tired stories. life stumbles. over the stones we call love. bruised and shaking. in a fury of touch. as loud as it is deaf.


1 comments:
abdillah seif said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.


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