Wednesday, April 13, 2011


Barbs at 20 paces, tips
dipped in our own blood,
we raise pain-filled goblets,
swapping poisoned quaffs.
Anger-fired eyes stab
each tumbling tear.
Caress and slap dance
a bitter do-si-do until
the music stops.
We dress our wounds
and then,
fondling our addiction,
return each time for one more tune.


littlemonkey said...

Sharp, crystalline, and delicious. I am awed.

Anonymous said...

Oh, VERY good indeed! Ouch... - jcn

Paul said...

OG, beautiful, but painful.
Love and warm hugs,