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Archive for February, 2010

the high was his love..

burning a hole in the fine fibers that once believed..
lullaby dreams are make believe and
only junk is what remains  in this picture..
the rest went up in flames
mistaken as foil
charred reminders of what once was.
he blocked everything else out as a bad reminder of what he gave away.
he would have even sold his child to get high..
He would have given anything away… and did.

the high was his love..

Time slipped by him,
forgotten were birthdays, holidays..
other peoples wants were not his own
her dreams were not his
there was no happily ever after
there was this moment and this gasp of air
and that stream
while his mind drifted away
money slipped through his fingers
paying the dealer for his next fix became his ritual
Payday was a new supply
forget the electric bill,
she can get her own heat man…
and this high was losing its charm,
for instead of rolling over and needing her in his arms
he needed his blue veined mistress
that cold dawn puff through metal pipe
that he hid where he thought she didnt see

the high was his love….

the white lady…
blaming the nose  bleed on the baby
how high could he go ..
burn and cook them together, melted on a spoon
make it all go away a little while
it was all too much
the children, the tiny house
fuck all that mundane bullshit
it could all disapear…
mix the white with the green and make Christmas
all year..
cause she just wasnt fun anymore
fuck that good for nothing bitch
she had no jewelry left to pawn
the last diamond he ripped from her ear last week
bitch just wouldnt give it up

the  high was his love
little white crosses
licked off the chest of the stripper upstairs
while her friend found his creme filled center

rolling the days away
rolling down that junk filled creek
where the dealer made house calls for a price
and nothing else mattered
but the euphoria
the high was his love….
and he woke up
with three frost bitten toes
under an overpass bridge somewhere in Iowa
where did it all go
the junk is all gone..
and someone stole his shoes
his nose still was working
he smelled something green
that would do for now.

the high was his love..
all else was forgotten.

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Beyond Closed Doors

Scent …clings to a room
Pervacent as cats feet across
mystic night air
It seeps in sleeping minds
with eyes wide shut,
Clandestine
rendezvous in midnight hour
while a sleeping dog lies.

See spot run,
the drum beats the tune
and he runs
baying at moon with packs
of wolves in sheep’s clothing
Pissing on fences
erected
for circumstantial reason.

Whispered words
italicized
centered focus
were more than the fine line
walked down the median
with headlights
blurring vision,

Lost…
between the sheets
of the fucked
and mind fuck
Beyond the
ass(sertion)
of reality
fenced framed and fucked again.
American whore
the pictures of her
on  the players lists.

More than this
time ticked
tocked..
sands sifted through fingers
where and when
were we before this..
still whispered
were the words..
framed
warm inviting
like the kiss of Judas.

Omission
the slap
with a whip(lash)
discord(ant)
jazz chords
rift final notes
ass(ending)
beyond all belief
as you walked on down the hall..

The closed door
the tale to be told
in darkness
fringe
calculated
estimated
jaded
fucked again.

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