untitled
slipping to the end
back to where this all began;
why can't i move on?
just think, type, submit.
every poem is anonymous.
circling like birds of
prey, eager to peck out the
eyes of the weak, we
eat and talk at once.
everyone knows the price of
mistakes-- wary of
slips, we choose our words
with care, and each heartbeat pounds
like furious wings.
at
12:26 PM
here, i can return
my bottles and get money
back. what a concept.
at
6:01 PM
I.
under the guise of
a chaste love we each burned like
embers in a pit
at
9:39 AM
"My life's savings," he
said to the croupier. The
marble circled 'round
the track, falling in
the comfortable slot: sixteen.
Red. The man yelped
ecstatically, and
tossed money freely into
the air. He knew that
money won was worth
far more than money earned. "Red;
double-or-nothing."
at
2:54 AM
My therapist I
kissed - on the hand... it was warm
and comforting. I
may be gutless, but
not too sorry - he had to
"be mad" but I don't
think he hated it
either. I stroked his cheek, told
him I love him. Oops.
at
11:15 PM
usually, she
is sarcastic, brassy—a
girl all mouth and legs
but in that vinyl
booth, full of chipotle and
nerves, she was bashful
and avoided his
eyes like he avoided hers
while justin typed crap.
at
1:03 PM
she claimed to bring the
excitement, crawling all over
the dirty carpet,
and everyone itched
to clutch her face and wax those
horrible eyebrows.
at
10:13 AM