Saturday 11/30/2019 11:50:00 PM

the ladder swayed. the wind was all bandages and antiseptic. as our wounds found their gravity.

i assumed we'd be brief. context defeats us. especially when we're eager.

we boasted warmth even when cold was all we had to offer. we wagered sun even as the rain would not relent.

it's soft. the color of our want. it's sharp. the edge we chase to determine where we are.

flesh asks its questions and we search for answers in bone and blood. but the body is merely a piston. a fragile machine in the engine that drives us.

we spin. as the miles devour us. we slow against the friction. as time bears down. victims of our own arrogance.

there's no time. there's too much of it. that is life's unrelenting paradox.

the apples cling to their branches while our arrows lay defeated. we hunt. in our softest voices. in our most profound grief. for the smallest of reasons.

0 comments:


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