Monday 2/21/2011 02:03:00 AM

the planks fall into place. all diseases decided. the floor beneath her feet trembles. desperate to find the choice it wasn't given.

time curdles. sour milk. shallow bowls. the origami of skin. folds each touch into the next. until we are lost without it. little rips procreating. until there are only pieces.

time sours. the same as any meat. dead flesh. more trouble to produce than it is worth to eat.

slaughterhouses in her head. constantly killing. anything that resembles food.

she draws on the sidewalk. in hunks of chalk. each pastel a predator. she throws her stones. assuming the game is enough. and that there can be a victor.

choices. like too much gasoline. flooding the motor. time. in conditions of men. As if flesh could determine the motive. as if math were sufficient. to name these demons.

Infinity waits for her to find it.

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