solvent predators chase the swing. pressing the arc. withi arrogant division. there are no numbers. only breath to be sacrificed to the war.
the long rod bends to the short angle. it's not difficult to see why.
simple martyrs as they are. flesh and bone and the gentle beasts that dwell within. any number of imagined paradises waiting for them. and yet they are still afraid to die.
she opens too easily. secrets betrayed by missing buttons and broken zippers. yet she closes the same. snaps shut. abruptly. heavy doors at the whims of touch. open windwos pressing on the wind. shy kisses spurred by hunger.
the villain and the champion. same science. different catalyst.
the butterfly coughs. sick with change. the future masturbates to the arid feasts of despots and saviors. stories calloused by the pinch of gravity. the language of her lips. translating strangers.
the science of skin. the fractured gravity of men. not withstanding.
Tuesday
3/26/2013 01:02:00 AM
| Life Poems |