Wednesday 2/11/2009 01:11:00 AM

moments as big as continents. sweep the graves. tall men with bent backs. breaking their ladders in half. managing the monsters with bigger ones. the place is the catalyst. the hour is the drug. as any villain will tell you. their victims solicit them.

the marked man. with the tiny tattoo on his thigh. tries on the child. imagining himself the same. that no fire had ever been set. That no rooms were blackened. and that no one had died.


it was.

they are.

she did.

now every hour is as large as then. and as small as he is.

skin like chalkboards. The dust resettles around what's been erased. The clock beside his bed explains. It's only now. Your chronic surrender to Morpheus. You'll see. When will lie. Tell you it matters. Don't believe it.

How will say it can. But fails on every occasion. The buildings will collapse. Faces. Like mortar and brick. Piling up again.

Those gods are will always be deaf.

That glass cracks, but doesn't break. As he puts all his weight on it.

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