No vacancy

Standard

There.And there.

Some lingering scent. Unwashable.

Nostril in quivers and shudders of impatience.

Time stands still -a horse shot to death.

A gelatinous time with trapped sounds.

Insects caught in a net,

turning to dust between fingers.

Cotton mouth

and

an unwavering image

in the back of the eye.

An inaudible voice

before the heavy head hits the pillows.

the last conscious thought

of a tired mind.

An itch in the fingertips,

a sudden burst of heat.

Heartbeats fidgeting,

a taste of water,

an aftertaste of kiss.

A constant presence.

A room in one’s mind.

No vacancy.

 

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