Originally published in Pyrokinections.
Enjoy,
Owl
---------------------------
Heroins
in the twilight
people kept shriveling.
kissing wraiths.
what was real
began to hide in wounds less
than scum, entire worlds
crowded into ether
smaller than invisible,
less tangible than deja vu.
no ear saw,
chins couldn’t focus,
images outpaced tongues.
holes yawned
for faces soon childish
in the rabbit twists.
such ample blurs
of half-pleasant tunnels.
it was easy to
succumb and
jab the needle.
drone the ride.
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Friday, February 28, 2014
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