by Ted Box

My thumb tucked under my arm
hitching all night on a cold Texas highway
a wind as cold as the night is black.
But warmer still than my beating heart.
Frozen tears disallowed
the false dawn a night away.
Time to saddle up.
How long will I survive
in the cunts of careless women.
Another room in the vacuum palace
broken by the one who bore me.
Fuck you.
You come to me with shit on your face
handing me a facecloth.
But you know what, I don’t quit.
Brake lights.

I begin to look for me, for me.
A rabid salesman knocking on every door.
Books sharing nothing, false prophets
peddling lies, pissing on bibles.
But holy fuck
the first real clue from a nun
who first lies to me.
Doors crack, a trail to track
the scent of roses.
I’m so fucking dirty
who will love me.
On my belly I crawl
to your feet

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

by Ted Box — I’ve practiced holding ...

Ted Box is an alchemist storyteller – ...

Philip Brautigam
No Comments

Post A Comment