from the bottle
he is left
with the heavy machinery
of his mind
hanging from a rope
like a busted tractor engine
in a barn.
he stands
at a distance
eying
the strange contraption
skeptically.
sunlight
coming through the windows
for the first time in years
frightens him
immensely.
3 comments:
cool poem
minds are heavy machinery.
I knew you were a bastard, but not a drunk. I thought that was the girl who puked on you for your first date...that didn't make it in a poem? ; )
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