cold tempests in the thick rape of the moment. pale doll faces. hungry plastic eyes. see nothing. not far. the elementary scrape of intent. servile and stupefied. the passionate catalyst. moments. devours. famished and rabid. always wanting more.
she teases the wolf.the abbreviated scent of the hunt still strong even in her weakness. she tests the bricks. the height of the wall. gentle lies tell the story as accurate as any memory is. each touch an eager fiction in a short story gone on much too long.
the engine chokes on the fumes of its own combustion. the subtle punctuation in her eyes. alters the poetry in her skin. she runs softly. in the wet soil. chased by footprints she leaves behind.
Friday
4/06/2012 12:59:00 AM
| Life Poems |