black and white checkered bathroom floor,
reaching out with despairing palms to save
the precious bottle of liquor
before it may crash and hit the floor.
there is a holy eternity which lies during the interval
of destruction.
what is not important is that the hands fail to catch,
and what is left is a pile
of interrupted screams.
the hands search through the mound
getting cut, and
then playing with the blood.
this is your destiny.
seed of desperation.
let me taste you.
Author Bio:
I am a young yet passionate poet from Atlanta, Georgia. I am interested in philosophy, literature, feminism, world culture, film and fine arts. From a young age I began writing poetry, and have with practice began writing poetry as part of regular routine.