solves the math. for numbers yet unknown. strong figures roil in the huff of gravity's sickness. lions nuzzle their lambs. with polished fangs. turns the tyranny. augers twisting through bone. all this rage is a byproduct. of quiet murders.
her stories run ahead. nimble children not yet burdened. her words frolic and scamper. graceless orphans. peddling bent matchsticks. and pockets of darkness. where freedom boasts a darker spectrum. petting each predator.
sticks and stones pretend an army. though her war is long since lost.
she travels down. willingly. into the abyss. curious more than anything. about the species of monsters.
sorting atoms. fiddling with the end. a portrait. no colors. just blank canvas. waiting to be shit upon.
the hour trembles. more science than flesh. soft dolls flaunt their knotted asses. a puzzle of lust. a lottery of strangers. no winners.
the balance shifts again. back to circumstance and habits.
blunt crayons pressing. claiming empty outlines.
Tuesday
4/09/2013 01:05:00 AM
| Life Poems |