Silver Tongue, White Devil

Text

Not finished

Film forms on his skin
Humidity coaxes the coating out of his pores
Perspiration proves procrastination, inebriation, stagnation,
Denial

The train passes in the night
The once sleep shattering steel
Rocks the bed like a stumbling lover getting under covers
Trembling tracks, fingers running through his hair
The Whistle whispers “Get some sleep, babe” 

Posted on Wednesday, May 25 2011. Tagged with: poetry



My poetry reflects me. Draw your own conclusions.

Ask me anything
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