Skip to content

Secrets

September 15, 2012

Lay your dreams out on the table, honey

The soul pimp says in a whisper

She’ll decode their symbols, tell my secrets

As if she’s spilling gold at my feet.

My secrets

Are my secrets

They’ve been here all along.

She throws the cards down knowingly

A sneering smile creeps in.

I feel like burnt tendrils

Waving in the wind, a choking wind

Me, unable to be rejuvenated

Can she do that, raise me from the dead?

Me, relegated to being crispy, pokey, sharp

For the rest of my life.

She turns the cards, speaking of secrets

Not mine, someone else’s

The secrets of someone living, not crispy

Not me.

It’s in the cards.

Advertisements
2 Comments leave one →
  1. September 16, 2012 10:02 am

    “The soul pimp says in a whisper” and “Me, relegated to being crispy, pokey, sharp

    For the rest of my life.” Outstanding.

  2. September 16, 2012 10:25 am

    🙂 Thank you. I appreciate your presence.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: