Tuesday 10/16/2012 12:28:00 AM

she wore the words. like legions. a temperate sickness. pissing its way through her veins. in sharp sticks and dull blades. all her maps a paradox. the same beginning as the end. all of her lies so innocent. as they told her.

the angle of the light as it bends to escape the clouds. makes it look so small and so far away that i almost believe it is.

paper bones. adrift in an ocean of flesh.

windows on the plaza. tempting the stars. steps from the gallows. as the rope giggles ghosts and murders.

the ample choke of apathy.

the moment. a simple tide. effortlessly repeating. as though everything is lost.

the light whispers. simple songs paint her skin on barren walls. the houses of men. so painfully small. no room for answers. Hungry roots in the throes of summer. Learning the storms.

chasing the rain.

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