addicted to lies
July 28, 2019broken mirror, black water,
crumpled desire in its narrow box
of guilt and other treasured trash
that you cannot part with;
music composed in haste,
with a taste of “as it had never been”
it’s two o’clock:
new words on her lips taste like honey;
there’s only one direction to go,
he laughs, staring at his face
in the night’s mirror:
the reflection is a hollow skull.