Sarcastic Pulses.

Coughing up sarcasm,
she can't seem to self-repair.
Choking on the backlash
of being an impotent little wreck
with legs that waver between
being intoxicated or just unfaithful.

He's got eyes like that of a neutralized god
that's grown crisp around the mind
with bramble curled up 'round his wrist.

Her stupid reasons fade into cancers,
spun together with truths with hairline existence.
Later she's to be drown in a closed-coffin rain,
sure to resonate such beauty like bound lilies
at the foot of a headstone.

She patches up the fractured seams
in her sore aorta with insomnia and wishing
for nothing but a better answer.
Caffeine is a tranquilizing narcotic
used to keep together her frame of mind,
to weave a healthier next breath
and increase a slowing pulse.