rock candy

Saturday, August 30

The cobwebs are pulling his mouth down,
sand has settled in his cheekbones, speckled
his face, a fractured mirror surrounded by

the memory of youth. Hot summer sidewalks.
Skinned knees. Ice cream cones. Sticky rock candy
now transformed to whiskey and cocaine.

Everything burns him like guitar strings
snapping against calloused fingers, iron
lowered into the flames of premature age.

Pretty lies dusting his murky charisma,
cigarette smoke and ashes curl and veer
through his dripping hair and down my back,

sparking on my spine, ripping me up.
Everything is numb and everything kills
him, but nothing can put him in the soil

faster than the bass line tearing him apart,
screaming his name until the world is dead,
torn open by the drugs that kill him.

via *


  1. I tend to think of cobwebs as inert little things, but the way you make then seem active with the power to distort someone's face - to hold an expression - has given me something to think about this morning.

    Breakfast After 10

  2. This is amazing.

    "... Sticky rock candy
    now transformed to whiskey and cocaine."

    Love that.

  3. I hope he finds the strength he seems to be seeking.

  4. "Sticky rock candy
    now transformed to whiskey and cocaine."
    ...yes!!!!! loved that... somehow I find it exquisitely sad... I pictured a million things happening between those two concepts

  5. so darkly stunning, like all your words (your magic spells) x

  6. Amazing writing. So emotive and beautiful - it almost broke my heart. x


Thank you for your words; they light a fire in my heart. You are lovely.