McCannot (prodigalsun) wrote,

godspeed you blistered feet.

sweet nothings
of an atheist,
his fist shaken anyway
at the oblique sky.
in heaven,
coffee cures ulcers.
in his southern eyes,
the fondest memory of northern sky
lays defeated
blue drowned in blue
which thick disgust
begins to brew,
cumulonimbus, numb,
fingernails dredging
my blanched blackboard thighs.
he haunts me
beneath the white bedsheet,
caricture of a ghost,
linen bandaging sex like a wound.
my sanity drives me mad
to cities
where neons & marquees
stab blindly up into
the nights slithering belly
& tell us something
we didnt know.
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