Familiarity with time
so that time becomes family
it sits at both the kids and big people table
time tells the best stories
though it gets drunk on itself
and forgets everything in the morning.
Time’s a one night stand that stays forever.
Time keeps fucking your dead body long after you’ve left it.
Still, time is malleable so that you can reshape memories
over a few beers
in a circle of your lifelong friends
nicotine halos hover over your heads
the smoke stained ceiling tells the story of peer pressure and self abuse
and still the breath waiting to be used
still the blood to be spilled sleeps within veins
like a necrophiliac reanimating the corpse before fucking it.
(And I read poetry is dead.)
As minutes pass and the air thins from black to blue
midnight ink upon these pages
thoughts tattooed on the flesh of trees
how mean is the meaning of time
when weighing less than dust
we wipe like sleep from our eyes
running over crows feet
tearing into memory
a starving vulture devouring the living.