Leave a stone like any shadow would. Be as you are. Fluid with time as it squeezes through your skin. A parched nomad ripe with the world as its weight.
Yellow songs echo through the dark. Orphans in borrowed tuxedoes flood into the ballroom. There is only the measure that persists in her smiles. There is only the distance that lingers in her tears.
Weightless as all lies are. And tender words too soft to whisper. The story chokes on her every verb.
She writes one letter at a time. Defeated.
Biting at sleep and other muses. Snarling softly in her impotence.
Time scalds. Red whispers tuck her into her bed.
Places shuffle moments. The stiff poker of Darwin. Thin calves ddark potryrowned in the milk they couldn't drink.
Thick scabs flaunt new skin.
Even the beast has his limits.
Seldom angles chase the arc. Of queens and dolls as they speculate the whims of poets and madmen.
The moment tears. Soft as paper. And just as loud. Everything else is quiet.
Plastic tits and clay fingers. Betray the heart. Empty dolls pleasure absent lovers.
Simple bridges confess the distance. Take us too far.
Thursday
3/14/2013 02:18:00 AM
| Life Poems |