Wednesday, April 22, 2015

satisfied smile

Sometimes I see your ghost smiling back at me, 
a satisfied smile with straight teeth and lingering lust, 
and it hits my gut like psychedelic poison, 
spinning hallucinations and weightlessness, 
and all the fucked up weight that drags behind our spirits like a ball and chain, 
a slowly creeping advance that I can’t outrun, 
with my molasses motivation and strung-out apathy, 
and there’s a widening sliver of teeth, 
there’s a pink blossom covered in snow, 
just to prove that progress is not permanent, 
and what is beautiful in one moment is damaged goods in the next, 
a spring smile saturated by snow, 
numbed to the point of amputation, 
frozen in a mental snapshot.

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