![]() DelusionsA Poem by Eve
Delusions of grandeur. At 10:45 a.m. she's crushing a menthol between her fingers and pouring Bailey's into her coffee, biting back the smoke of another morning. October is bringing 47 univited and the Cancer baby has no hair daring her to feel sorry for herself. There is activity in the dead zone, a series of train crashes and tracks being re-laid; while the Ostriche has his head in her sand, well, it's his land; anyway... the clock ticks away her patience steals the lies from her hips with a various brew of hops and hope, to make it better... Mixed with the meds, the day starts calling and upon it's lips come all her delusions of grandeur... "Carp diem" ... he whispers, while she cries and shuffles her cards. "deal" she says, and knocks it straight back from the bottle on the edge of fold and nub smoked bones littering the air with it's narcotic film... clinging. © 2008 EveReviews
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2 Reviews Added on October 17, 2008 |