#cavernousplace

[cavernousplace]

Broken knuckles are romantic

like cellphones thrown against the wall.

And shattered means he cares so much

there was Passion in The Fall.

On August nights, I remember 

all the parents in plastic lawn chairs. 

How bottles crackled in the embers

of a dying summer lawn fire.

You’ll believe those lawn chair parents

they swear he loves you: hates you, calls you cute.

You’ll kiss his broken knuckles

you’ll toss away bruised fruit.

[cavernousplace]

When I was a child

I spake as a child

I understood

Little

I thought

As a child

I wanted to be loved.

To be cradled after

And caught up in the

Light flickering

Fluorescence.

In essence, I wanted

what everyone wants.

Time.

In time I grew

I knew then that

time was best spent Elsewheres

Those great wide places

That were not for me.

I knew

Little of Elsewhere.

But I knew that time

flickering like fire

Was

unsustaining.

Would

empty me.

Weave

mistrust

Leave

mistresses

And crying babies who,

Understanding little,

Seek time.