11.10.2012

Never Tell Me the Odds

It's late and I'm sober
when there's no excuse to be.

I can hear the bricks
of my bedroom walls breathing--
The sound of karma snoring
deep beneath the waves.
"Keep your heart small,"
the rhythmic pulse entreats
though I know nothing
of such travesties
and might yet die
an honest man
if I can stay the course--
Here, for lease, with option to buy
and a lifetime supply of adjectives.

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