SEW TIME IS BEING A BITCH AGAIN

seated at the plastic rigid table
scratching her right psalm
skin forming in polluted coffee 
monsters flaying the cartoon suicides
laughter flown in from yesterday's parasite
salted circles regimented too every shuffled step 

her  T Shirt bled across neon letters
blunted cigarette stained tendrils reached into fantastic rites
static whispers sending zipped shocks
halos hung around the skinless wrists
mapped routes dance along stale blue graves

we awoke to left over vodka  labels frosted to mirrored glass
the stairs had rotted overnight
revealing a nasty little joke stranded unvarnished 
light murdered in early surrender
rolling over the steel torturous springs 
facing each other i notice dark smiles placed 
in a stone henge of whiskey bottles
we steal time before it can be the bitch

then i see it
Another hole in my Superman suit