Seconds in time,
take your scornful kiss
with my body
thinking I’d taste your weakness
slowing down into honey
but your lips charr like forest fires
your jaw locked, feeling fuzzy
seamless from eye to eye
paranoia in your panorama
take your lack interest
with a glass of wine
bad taste in my mouth
pennies to the irony
lean in and make you sick
curl you up in my napkin
seconds in time,
take your scornful kiss
home to my intentions.
I suspend and dream
hold my head to the deep
I think, I think,
just to breathe in
and out
tell me how
you want me to sleep
with one eye open
while you’re here
trick me, twist me
sedate me in your sea
until my skin becomes
the illusion of warmth
I could just leave
trailing my grief,
you could have minutes
and I could have miles.
I know this story
you’ve told it before
you’re chasing, I’m running,
I can’t stick the landing, no
I can’t keep my feelings to myself
you crawl in while I sleep
entangled in my sheets
waking as a casualty, I
cant wash myself clean
can’t stop thinking now
Always seconds from the door,
just cradling the ignition,
just a few more boxes to move,
and there you are again
cracking your knuckles,
ready to break me in
This carousel sort of routine,
I can hear you telling me
you’ll never let me go,
never let me go,
and I sit on my horse
pray the path is straight
that I’ll escape
but you’re in my dreams every night
some phantom sort of sinner
and I, I just can’t keep you out
I can’t get off this horse.
Prompt 001: to his horror, he realized he had been this way before.
To his horror, he realized he had been this way before. To be lost, it seemed, was not nearly as unsettling as finding a place so familiar. His stomach churned. Did they know he would be here?
He choked the sickness down. He blurred his eyes to obscure what his nose and ears could not. Reality folded beneath him. He wondered if this place might be worse than death.
He could starve out the familiar by being found. His heart bleeding on the gritty earth instead of this.
As if he could be found, when there is nobody looking.
The art of spilling over 