a slow slipping into the dark abyss of thinking such dark wicked thought twists on the vines overgrowing the living breathing edge of perception its hard white metal edge baking in ever present sunlight like wine i am a drunkard of the softest touch i am a ***** to the sweetest line master of none...fool for some its all a memory a moment after it happened so why am i so glued to the window paine staring into the brief bright glitter of passing time staring into the abyss
her eyes slowly scattered across my form as her words escaping in rapid succession splatter the cold tile like breadcrumbs for the miserable beast the trail of which is lewd in my mind like razors her reservations slip back into her lips past thick gloss her dire predictions limp hollow into the heavy thick humid florida air laughing like a mad mad woman like a mad mad man
teeth gritted and hands contorted to the form of the pill bottle long empty the headache has returned to her lips spew itself across the dim room leaving splashes of hand wrought pain leaving traces of hand carved memories her tricycle broken and burning her doll sitting in darkness she weeps i sleep