Monday, February 1, 2010

Bacardi and Coke

Gone are restless thoughts of slumbering wilderness. Drunken men lie in throngs waiting for their next drops of amnesia. Animals draw forth to the stagnent watering hole and dip their tongues where oil covers the surface. Time passes by as clouds shift over a darkened sky, filled with the hidden tears of evaporated life. Shelters lie shattered, holes where windows were, eyeglasses without lense. The circle encompasses itself, truth denied and covered with glistening patience. Rambling endlessly, words plucked from within sponge and melded with careless choice. Dumbfounded, awaiting the next day with a sense of expectency, it will be the same. Lacking nourishment. Tepid is the shower water, sporadic drops, unrealistic flow of spatter. A flood of thought, cascade of image from locked cells inside the deadlock. A sputter of exhaust, fog of grey mechanical shame. Unspoken words, dreams breached while searching for a name. Find within this dizzy spiral, laugh in manic glee at misfortune. A stubbed toe. A bashed shin. Skin purple, bloody as within. Reckless abandon, distant cat calls from the night. Gone is the moment, and with it the light.

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