Tuesday morning flakes of acid fall
scalding my skin.
The fingers of sin touched me last night
and I swallowed
and I swallowed hard!
I doubt my nerves.
They are earthquakes in blankets,
shaking for no reason.
Midnight will come tonight
and I’ll put it off.
I’ll put off the moon
and the length of my legs
and the sin that will lay its hands upon me
but, hours strike like tree switches.
At one o’clock, i’ll sink underwater.
Breathing is automatic,
like a trigger,
so all this living,
and my skin,
will continue burning.
After the sun, I will stop drinking.