clutch

it never goes away,
something you've said before
but just for effect.

it suckered your soul
in a rigged con game.
you can't believe you
trusted those shining eyes.

now you tug at your own elbows
in winter's dark bedroom,
slam your eyes on the
hulking shadows in the corners.

your skull is full of echoes
like clumsy bats in an attic.

cut to:
tilted, askew angle on
the blotchy sky above -
mottled white & shocking blue.

this is the moment,
hungover, scarfed, ruddy,
that she appears
in the movies -
this is the moment,
distracted by graffiti,
that you run into her -

you turn off the television
suddenly
and find that you
prefer the silence.