Alexander Faillers (Poetry)

relapse writing

pressure shifts with
winds of commerce
wasted words
fall to the ground
like so many dead birds
and stick to teeth like yesterdays roast grounds
ill never get to what lies beneath
thinks the mathematician who wrote the defunct
derelict equations of his last few years
the realization there will be no numbers
given to spent tears
not now nor tomorrow
or the ones that slide off your face
streaking with their empty embrace
as they evaporate
into polar opposites