june.

if I speak of the
algorithms on the wall

symbols untranslated
by my tired eyes

preaching a chronicle
I can’t understand

the patterns are
in powder pink


© 6.29.12 heather brager

6.25.12

dust in the corners
forced across an empty floor
she should be the wind

© 6.25.12 heather brager

pallor.

the whites of her eyes
vacant, falling feminine
it seeps through the mirror
onto the streaked wall

apart, a woman
the form of an idea you
recall with derision
a version of

a former self

there is a dark
blue iris
a cut on her
right thumb
falling hair, teeth, breasts
a soft
turned stomach


© 6.11.12 heather brager

shame.

we are buried far beneath
the rigid corpses of our past

in the distance we recite
the lyric that binds us

we bond with the pain
that drives us mad

we are left again
and chasing behind

we still hold our cards
behind our backs


© 6.11.12 heather brager 

6.5.12

poor lividity
shattered words cannot restore
a complete breakdown