Chuck Perrin

today I walked around filling my pockets with rocks – ballast to hold me on the ground so I won’t get sucked out of this world, another body sent to the zombie parking lot
t h o u g h
my mouth has become a thunderstorm and steady breaths have given way to miserable moans and puffs of frustration and my hair is a lit fuse creeping toward my brain and sounds seem to linger longer in my ears before dissolving and the moons on my fingernails have almost set and I rub my eyes in the relentless darkness asking over and over “who’s there . . .?” but no one answers and my wick is burning down, sending smoke rings floating into the sky forming clouds that look like white handkerchiefs b u t this is no surrender
b e c a u s e
my blood is a river raging thru my veins carbonated by confidence still restless still seeking
the thrill