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frank-sterncrestPoems
he leans in towards you you wonder is the chair creaking or is he? he peers into your mind you wonder is he looking for his or has he forgotten to? “Ah. She got to you, too.” he leans back something creaks. you pausing let him explain “The woman” she laid him down brought a slender brush to his eye and painted his pupils blacker than forgetting “She got me, too. Look,” lean creak peer it has been years since he has seen the eye doctor you thought he was over that story but you lean into his confusion again. you swear you can see between the cataracts through the glaze the neurons shorting out one by one little stars dying swallowed by the black dots of paint. a fist rises in your throat scrabbling to choke the painter to blot her eyes black as catharsis but instead it chokes you he nods affirmed you sit stifled both scatterbrained.
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Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 5:25 AM UTC
scatterbrained
he leans in towards you you wonder is the chair creaking or is he? he peers into your mind you wonder is he looking for his or has he forgotten to? “Ah. She got to you, too.” he leans back something creaks. you pausing let him explain “The woman” she laid him down brought a slender brush to his eye and painted his pupils blacker than forgetting “She got me, too. Look,” lean creak peer it has been years since he has seen the eye doctor you thought he was over that story but you lean into his confusion again. you swear you can see between the cataracts through the glaze the neurons shorting out one by one little stars dying swallowed by the black dots of paint. a fist rises in your throat scrabbling to choke the painter to blot her eyes black as catharsis but instead it chokes you he nods affirmed you sit stifled both scatterbrained.
frank-sterncrest
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frank-sterncrest
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 5:25 AM UTC
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