like broken silverware, words flowed over
the edges of glasses, melting into
the surface of the corroded wood,
eating out the parasites like you eat
away the sunlight at night.

the anorexic moon cannot hold you in
contempt, even she feels the pangs
of sorrow as you reguritate another
afternoon's anger.

and in spite of yourself, you wipe
your lips clean of the crumbs
and a skeleton of a mouse scurries beneath
you to starve on what you left behind.

07/23/2004

Author's Note: it is quite possible that i have grown completely insane.

Posted on 07/24/2004
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