Wednesday 5/16/2012 11:49:00 PM

no colors. to chase the strays. as they wander. no monsters. to tempt the science. as life comes undone. quantum marathons under her skin. cut and scrape and wait. For the scabs to form. Lanterns and rope and choosing. The dark befriends her. Little spiders with their legs all in a dance. Working on their webs. The intricate details of want versus have.

a stab in the ink. Images poised for battle. The allure of war. As it infects both thieves and millionaires.

no change. lazy witches in their houses too sweet. no picnics. just empty baskets. left over after the wolves have feasted.

the light stumbles in. bought and paid for prior to this juncture. sticks and stones to tell her by broken bones. scoundrels and kings. scribble their treasure maps on vaginas and tits.

Lies are patient. It's the truth that makes you chase it.

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