Cradles of Jacob

in soft cankers the word prevails. sore lips practice in front of the mirror. home enough for anyone. or myself at least. the smooth dungeons habits build. creaking staircases down to cellars forgot. kept in jewels not rare enough to envy. Nor dark enough to fear.

Toiling in the collapse. The velvet of demons poised for orgasm. Wide smiles deciding which side they're on.

In dreams interrupted. Daggers of sun pierce the sheets. And I wake up the same as I went to sleep. Sober enough to remember. Drunk enough to forget.

The downpour of drugs that turn hysteria into happiness. If I wait long enough. The lesson of a bed that isn't empty.

Yet.

The names we give to the over. Dolls without their dresses. Plastic toes.

Empty dresses. Grim with the prospect of touch. Empty shoes. Discarding.

The toes we've left in them.