Delusions

Delusions

A 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 Eve


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Gritty lines from a day-in-a-life.

Chemical ride of an inner calibration.

Plainly seen but not harshly judged.

A sense that delusion's not dishonor, as it runs so very deep as to be a component of consensus reality.

Vivid pulp poem. . .I look forward to more.

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

That is life in a world in a bottle! What a powerful, pictorial write. It's almost a bad dream yet I need to read it again to see if it's real... it is.

Thank you.. I think.. for sharing such a vivid piece of writing.



Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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2 Reviews
Added on October 17, 2008

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