Saturday, and the sun is out.
you’re licking the salt from the crest
on the underside of my elbow
and asking
where I would like to live
next as I am pretending I
am unchained, and beginning
the slow fall to
devastation.
when I hear my name reflected
back I melt, I’m stone
mostly until I’m just a cloud
of maniac.

I am begging you to walk
away, being wrong about
the others but dead right
about this.
you love being right.
now dead right.

sarah, we are begging you
to run away from this.

“Post Mortem”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: