Monday 2/05/2024 11:31:00 PM

how quickly our choices expire. 

our story told mostly by strangers. 

spun by the colors of expectation. 

we fumble in time's empty pockets.

searching for purchase on this slippery stage. 

actors in the sickly skins of love.

carelessly naming every stray. 

daggers worn by touch. 

dulled by years of friction. 

little dogs in an oligarchy of skin. 

chasing phantom scents. 

time yawns.

our lives a series of open graves.
waiting for corpses. 

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