Sober Villains

broken locks and heavy doors. scribble absent faces. the charm of death uses her. a blackjack of strangers. guilty with kings and aces. a dead flower on the barren floor. mindlessly giving names to things that have no faces.

identity comes in floods. waxing wolves with faces in their claws.

this temporary pain is exciting. as the infection spreads. swelling gods with transparent robes. dole out life in a mosaic of skin. broken shards drawing their images. in blind metaphors and heavy medicines.

she waits for the wind to inhale. in her broken cup. on the tedious mountain. she climbs. the coy flames pretending not to notice. swelling graves. and nearing edges.

she dresses as a poet. in cracked windows. she laughs as a stranger. in empty parallels. the hungry bridges insisting their path. as the memories revolt.

the fairy tale louder than it's ever been. witches and wolves confident in the raw. heavy meat and hollow bone. to chew. the arithemetic of god is in the waiting.

the language of humanity  is in the taking.