Friday 10/26/2007 12:28:00 AM

If I'm different it's because everyone else is the same. Let go of the darts. The balloons will still break. No need for sex to disinfect the wound. The bacteria is bored with us.

I'm a cult. As right as I can convince you that I am. Tall fences grow from zombie soil. Short skirts tease tall boots in a circus of vagina. I'm a religion. Reason enough for the lost. Popsicle penises. Warm ice cream in a paper cup. Practicing their form from the edges of a plastic spoon.

If I knew them I don't anymore. If I ever lived it wasn't like this.

There are predators. And he imagined himself as one. Like straw houses imagine they won't be blown down.

I knew the alien. It was easier then. The tabloid of skin telling me to wait. Back when change was a luxury. And everything else could afford to wait on it.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.