Told me why I was alone,
Beeping grains of sadness static,
Electronic erotica being erratic
Before the skeletons of athletes,
The martyr rinses and repeats,
As her voice like a tsunami breaks,
Breaking mine into gasping flakes
That heaven dweller must be a clown,
His blue umbrella held upside down,
Drown with me so I’m never alone -
Give me death or dial-tone.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.
2 comments:
how did you do that? transform the most banal and ever-ready dial tone into a whispered plea for help?
impressive.
Hey, thanks so much for reading the poem. A modem was involved in the act, I believe.
=]
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