Bloodshot Detours
JCD Kerwin

She gets bloodshot eyes and follows railroad tracks from her head. She follows them to memories he laid for her when he left her cold, forgotten and skin and bones when he said she wasn’t worth the warmth of a lesser man. She blinks dead, glazed eyes and sees black birds on the tracks, pulling off the flesh of all the friends she left behind. [She pulls at her own skin, hanging loose against her ribs, sticking puncture-like from her body while she wonders when the birds will come to claim her for their final meal.] She follows tracks to the town she remembers, but doesn’t, because all she wants is the life she never had, the life she almost had before he kissed her lips and drove the blade into her heart. (Her salty tears across the metal: tarnished silver made it rust the faster.) She walks at Dawn to find someone who can keep the train away for one more day; someone who can keep it away until she finds the way home.

Nov., 2012

Broken Bells made me do it. That’s my excuse.
[End]