quiet thieves. whispers of lost. the stages of gone. come in careless folds. leave heavy marks. her wolf is shy. its fangs not yet tested. in neither the killing. nor the thick of the meat.
seldom maps trace her course. through amonia kisses. and perfumed corpses.
choices. the impotent gods that draw these paths under our skin. for the blood to follow. for the moments to get lost. hours like benign tumors. minutes to feed them the cancer. time has a face. as every monster must.
tutors in blood solving the sickness with more of the disease.
the blame becomes us. a tilting wall. leaning into the sun. a broken window. choking on the wind. freedom comes in doses. like any medicine.
Friday
7/12/2013 12:31:00 AM
| Life Poems |