Friday, September 24, 2010

one of the alter-egos i left in my closet
the one with regrets in its pockets
  and a few cats
is what i need now to quash 
this pulsating permanent pain behind
  the unashamed micro truths 
the dead and forgotten feast on
  with memories which don't belong to them
at strange nights when daemons 
  with bras that looked like puffy clouds 
sliced moons and courted precarious comets 
  all at the same time
why 
i don't know