Saturday, January 17, 2015

Morbid Introspection

Gravity
We ransom veins
haul them
into our
U-haul trucks
and
our moving vans
and for one 
brief moment
we wonder why
the Earth
is round.

Nightshift
She whirls around
viper head
caustic mouth
nothing sweet
or good
in her hatred
of me

Weak
How vacant
do we persist
in the intentions
of others?

Dream
There never passes
only this
brilliant space
dictated
by individual players
why wait
for the day 
to arrive
when night
can be 
so splendid

Kept
The fresh
cut cleavage
waiting for 
misery
engulfed
in the small
structured
flames
of holy men
with strong
mannerisms

Boogeyman
This of all
We run amok
the tingling
in our fingers
of our hands
and we pray
that before bedtime
he does not come
again.

Disease
Stretch by
this awful truth
it leaves
nothing unturned
for the telling
of the eyes
this fruit
we miss
sticky and rotting.  



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