seldom monsters slip into their claws. the easy costumes of hunger and isolation. the slope. glistens with gravity. the edge whispers of elaborate descents. the day breaks open. crwaling toward the sun. earnest matchsticks thirsty for a spark.
the glass breaks against the blades of her breath. the world churns in a swaying pendulum. a choke of colors. a stab of numbers. the distance swallows. the silence vomits. time falls aways. broken rubber bands. that once held together this mania of decisions.
the corners flaunt their ghosts. in abstract treasure maps. the moments shuffle their diseases. empty boxes generous with their hollow contents. the fever wears her. a long gown of skin and disappointment. the darkness still dances. though the music has stopped.
walls shuffle their shadows. the brave insomnia of poets and children. scours the night for a cure. not understanding the sickness is all that we are.
the obvious arithmetic. wolves drowning in sheep. the paradox of love. a simple poison. easy to swallow. impossible to digest.
Wednesday
8/21/2013 12:21:00 AM
| Life Poems |