Tuesday 5/22/2012 11:08:00 PM

sums and diversions. filthy specters in her bed. the plus. the minus. flows like liquid through her lungs. choking. the hushed hours. the shouting days. spills like sweat from her fingers. distorting everything she's said.

cortisone glances. numb the words. paper fists tear so easily as they knock on doors long closed.

a fever of skin. sick with reason. the bones below. quiver with expectation. nervous numbers. stumble through the algorithm of touch. Empty hands clutch the nothing. the world is just one decimal. Always repeating.

the after comes before. and the later never was. shadows wander through the memory's sunburn. Determined to be stung again. The truth is her blindfold. The future is her gun. Her suicide is slow, but effective.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.