She Rages as Tides of Brine…

Standard

ocean waves

cerulean tides of brine slap
their resentments against serrated edges
of a carnivorous shore,
that leaves twilights smeared in red.

I drink from your bourbon lips
the sneer of a stale kiss
flavored in soggy grease of burgers,
that in poisonous eructations
flushes out my disillusioned infatuations.

yet you are still
that scar sitting on my forehead
emblazoned since forever,
ugly yet familiar
to limbs too lethargic
to punctuate rage in gestures,
(wasted on you anyway.)
and lips too dry to bother with
overused blasphemy–
swapped like smiles over dinner
in nocturnal monotony.

futile anger hurls beneath my breastbone
in acrid tides of brine,
leaving the taste of ashen frustrations
in a mouth fed on obscenities
oft gulped down clogged throats…

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