Night shakes its
heavy chain
and the gilt
is pulled off
the West Edge.
Under faded
daylight skin
of the town
they stir
inside woolen
chrysalis'
rusted with
dumpster runoff
and agates of
shit.
Their time is now.
This is the true land of nod.
Down where the
fairy slips
turning a trick,
I saw him.
He used to have
a name
a girlfriend
a Vespa scooter
everything two-tone.
He decided it was better
to sell short
and trade the balance
of his tomorrows
for a quick trip
down the drain in his arm
to the dead heart of God.
All that's left
as his rotting corpse
shambles past
wrapped in bleeding pupa
is a needle point tattoo;
a black tar mark of Cain
burned
into the unseeing retinas
of his revenant yellow
eyes.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
A Revenant in the West Edge
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4 comments:
"trade the balance
of his tomorrows..."
I like this line.
Not a bargain.
No, it's not. It was a sad and frightening sight. My friend and roomate is gone and only his craving remains.
Down the drain,that´s where the druggies go.
I´m sorry for you if all this is true.
It's hard to think of him as a druggie 'cause drugs are only a symptom. That guy had deep blue painted all the way through his sad eye down into the dead parts of his soul. He tried to do his best, but he could not.
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