Monday 5/11/2009 12:22:00 AM

Stalks the color. Close to the dark. Feeble altars on the lips. Go all ablaze. Tears perform. Their acrobatics. Eyes like fire escapes. Leave us stranded.

She whispers to the explosion. Dirty words and manic secrets. Afterward is such a lonely place. And it goes on for so long.

Fades the color. Lost in the sun. Snuck away in surreptitious murders. Bright crosses crucify the meat. Willing to die. So that the skin might prosper. She wakes me up. From my intricate dreams. To tell me. She has finally found. Her face.

Put it on I suggest. Through a tumble of irritation.

No. She answers. Quite contrary. What if it won't come off?

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