liatrisrouge's profile

sometimes i catch a faint tendril of your scent—your discarded t-shirt in the bottom of my dresser i keep aiming to wash but never quite do. i open the drawer and your tan face suddenly glimmers flushed and sharp like a casino’s neon lights rising like knives out of reno coming forward from the cloudless brown desert.

I was walkin down the old train tracks by the bayou and after an hour I had to pee. I turned toward the scrub sticking out of the retaining wall, and lo & behold, a cinderblock house half-sunk into the hillside. the sea had aged it past its years but it was solidly built with a concrete slab roof wreathed in empty cigarette packs. I peered through the tiny glassless gap of a window, which revealed the edge of a sleeping bag and a table. on the table was an open bible, an emptybottle, and ...

maybe two hours into laying open-eyed in the sweltering night, the sweat of your unsleeping brow begins to melt the dust off memories and other things   that had long been buried. all you can do is lay there twisting in the unmoving air, feeling the hot mouth of june at midnight begin to issue its ghosts. they come with eyes like empty windows and spread themselves on your soaked sheets with their long gone faces drawing close and repeating your every violence and trespass. dawn is hours...