$ bit

by DeliAthletic

Posted to Poetry on 2003-08-16 01:16:00

I sat back and adjusted my tie, feverish rat dreams now.
Frothy patiance all across her stomach. I gave it a little nudge and it flowered out into my hand. Wrestling with sentimentality I found the niche and ran for home. Sounds that came back from across the stars pixalated on the front step of the satelite trailer… this is the one that wouldn’t go away. Try you piece of shit… sticky and ridged, slowly pounding a dead stump on the soldiers chest, as the desk leans back on it’s literary legs…


he thought… when was the last time I had anything real to think or say?…the answer, not for a very very long time. Rhetoric phrases and suggestions, manipulating language to fake consistency in thought. I can spell. This typewriter sucks ass.