Monday 5/31/2021 11:15:00 PM

 the miles travelled her. all crusting scars and drying blood. all her choices an open wound. a quiet suicide taking place over countless years. 

she measured time in hard and soft. a stuttering apocalypse of pleasure and fury. 

gathering her voice like little dolls. plastic bodies strangely ambivalent as their dresses dwindled. a panic of naked erupting under her skin. 

the truth a lingering poison. 

her crumbling bridges more sober than drunk. she kissed the devil and thanked him for his patience. 

she never knew a single one. all of them strangers. 

only years later realizing she'd lost all the games she'd thought she'd won. 

0 comments:


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved.