Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Anonymous Sex

He sat there, naked on a bench --
off his rocker
where he’d spent his silence yesterday –
seeking soothing swaying rhythms
none of which, he knew, today
would stay
the tumult or allay
his sense that everything inanimate
and animate now held a grudge
against his skin’s existence.

He knew exactly what had happened.
Yesterday God had fellated him
and drained his juice
and baited him and rained a sluice
of quantum-busybody
vitriol which poisoned
all and left him here, on some now
God-forsaken sphere
where silence was the only hope.
He’d try to cope.


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