Sunday, October 7, 2012

Socket


Socket

I give until I explode in a blackout rage on a makeshift stage in the
middle of nowhere.
Like a fruitless pursuit I ache for bruises from no one, and there
Ain’t no audience now.
Still
I’ll make a grown man cry and laugh
about it like a cruel demon waiting for the sky to
fall back to hell.
But I’ll get back up again
and cast this play
on pixilated words that can’t
misspell.