PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

most of his time being spent indoors his skin was butter

spread thinly upon an artist's rendering a basemenr

statue of lightless beauty. he spoke greasily and waxed

nervous and occasionally slipped out of sight re-emerge

sizzled and ultraviolet with hair overlaid in syrup gold.

the city toasted him an alien son rolled and battered he

emptied a glass once again. the hot breath of may the

blunt and stupid terrible teeth.  he is nothing if not

glass taped down and packed in styrofoam too fragile

for the inner city sidewalks...



(i am deflated not by your words but by your lack of them. you succeed in failing to harden my resolve.  you succeed in failing to engender my hatred. you wield the doctor's laser and you shrink me down and i can only meet your shoes.  this spot i thought was safe.  this place i keep forgetting isn't my own.  i will pay for the sins of my fathers.  i will deserve the hot breath of the inner city.  i will gradually come to the realization that i am nothing more than glass taped down and packaged in styrofoam too fragile for these streets that need repairing.)



...in need of repair and so hot as to poach an egg

today.  the sperm that he has already spilled the smell

and the sheen of his butter brow the white wax candle

that melts upon contact and drips from an embarassed

smile.  words become flavourless morsels either hot or

cold harm or bring no help at all.