a tiger in the darkness by Jared Fladelanda face like stone
etched by wind, a road flare,
and several bottles of whiskey
cannot dim the torches burning
behind cosmos-colored eyes.
he picks up a glass
filled no doubt with accelerate,
the kind that combusts
with dragon's breath,
and sniffing it,
that face puckers for a brief second
before a dry mouth consumes it all into the belly.
i could tear out your heart,
he mutters.
but no one ever listens to mumbling
in the corner. unless it's accompanied
by action:
a fist jabbing into the soul,
grasping the straw of the large intestine,
and lighting it ablaze with just his looking. 01/19/2010 Posted on 01/19/2010 Copyright © 2025 Jared Fladeland
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