Poetry Wanderings
Some who wander are lost...
B rave
We gamble
on late nights
under street lights
with liquored lips and swaying hips
Fleeting gasps of youth
driving us to strobe lights
Lively and lonely
weighted with questions we sling away.
Will tonight be catharsis
a forever memory that shuts out the insecurity?
moves us together?
frees us from our own scrutiny?
We gamble
Will the musk of drink curdle
on slackened mouths leaking pain.
Drama biting back on truths
we never meant to speak.
God. damn. drink.
And when tomorrow comes with heavy limbs
and low
head-throbbing
laughs,
lies we hide with it-never-happened eyes
whisper if you can
into the
split
of your headache:
"Was it worth the ante?"
Gunslinging Sociopathy
Vocal chords a gun cocked and loaded The knowledge of how to emotionally
kill keeping her throat coated with the gravity of metal pulling on tenuous
strings their hearts to her chasmic being Every conversation an act
on a tight wire not the performer’s death
hanging in the silence
of perspiring palms
clenching teeth
Not her own demise
dangling delicately
their faults her
faltering self control
tasting the temptation
of desire unspoken
words cocked.
Waiting to fire.
