Friday 9/15/2023 11:14:00 PM

blunt corners tease the math. as we stumble over the angles of our circumstance.

our empty picnic baskets still heavy with everything that's been forgotten.  

we turn to face the wolf. 

our choices blind. the questions deaf. 

the slippery dichotomy of trust. 

each answer a deeper bruise.

the treachery of touch our only constant. 

as time crawls under our skin. 

and we are lost.

sacrificed to what might've been. 


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