Monday 9/15/2014 12:21:00 AM

time breathes its incredulous slopes and vagrant spirals. simple paths leading to complex situations. she only knew the angle. the solution required more. she only knew the distance, but could not tell how far.

she listened for the traffic as each passing vehicle overtook her. a time machine of sorts. as she let the journey become her path.

a little bit of geometry. a handful of algebra. the numbers laughing as she calculates their weight. in flesh. in cum. in all those familiar strangers who convince us we're not alone.

the puzzle. an organism. an intelligence. occuring in patterns. too similar to love.

a chaos of images. a panic of touch. all broken glass and an hysteria skin. as quiet as it is determined. to know. the condition of the edge. 

she approaches the intersection. hungry, yet unwilling to embrace the end.

filled with tears and the scrape of crimes. unresolved. 

a left turn made in haste.

the last shadow falling in a world where gravity is absent.


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.