down in falls. cold tame wail. rising wild. hot blue monsters. more skin than eyes.
the trembling stair. the broken song. louder still. now that we are resolved to lost.
black portals below the touch. grinning membrane and lethal guise. electric fever.
scattered hope. torn envelopes flaunt their jagged flesh. the tumbling path. the heavy numbers. thick with exceptions. and splintered crutches. for hungry men and absent gods.
the numbers stolen from her barren feasts. the ink usurped from ambivalent purgatories.
her soft demons put away their horns. pretend to sleep. though dreams seldom come.
her small time machine. traces the beast. the fury of youth in loose buttons.
The monsters worn. Pliant paper dolls. Holding faster to a broken clock. the diminishing luxury of having died before.
Wednesday
6/26/2013 12:35:00 AM
Sad Labels:
acceptance
,
addiction
,
alcohol
,
alone
,
dark art
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