Friday 2/25/2022 11:12:00 PM

 we gather our stitches. as they slither through fresh wounds. biting as they will. gnawing on the edges of the abyss as it spits us out. 

the engine chokes on our bones. the distance carves its canyons in our flesh. 

our paper fists drown in the words. our tattered maps take us in circles. 

we shout at  the ghosts. we scratch at the windows. 

as the world unravels. 

the math comes and goes. in the perpetuity of loss. we're always strangers. 

we measure each other in the absence of how. 

the truth dissolving like candles left to burn. 

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