Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

In Memorium:: Spring

Poetry By: paradocs1967
Poetry


Another moment from a recluse.


Submitted:Jan 25, 2013    Reads: 8    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   


Vodka makes my mouth open;
smoke makes my tongue falter:
where did my provenance go?
I used to bleed from my fingertips
Because I thought my blood was music
waiting for an aria, or a tom waits growl,
to set the sway of sweaty skins and sins.
(And god I hate you
for splitting my seams
and sewing me up
with your indecisive voices and
fleeting glimpses of fantasy.)
I wish, I wish
upon this star, hanging from the rim of the glass
that I was abnormal.
Every pretty girl loves a paradox.

(I miss spring.)





2

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.