Submissions by JT-Lit

The cellar,
is far more suitable than the attic,
but if they prefer the attic -let them have it.
It makes no difference to me.

Rattling down the staircase after dark.
Running dry chalky fingertips
along split cracked walls.

Standing motionless
behind closed doors
with only blackness in their eyes.
As if salvation lay on the other side.

How wonderful amusing they are,
but their echoes become fewer
as the days grow long.

Until they no longer speak the name,
Mr. Frost

and I know, it's time to...

Last night I managed to break you.
Twenty minutes later,
I did it again.

By morning,
you were ready for round three.
All I wanted to do
was sleep.

I guess it just goes to show,
this clock isn't what it used to be.
Time stopped between eighteen and twenty nine,
now twelve hour days
are hard.

I drive to work like a zombie,
I don't always remember the trip.
Sometimes this is when poetry happens.
I don't pretend to understand.

Great sex, exhaustion, and writers block;
I don't know about this...

The morning sun
beams through the front windshield
like an intruder:
brash and unwelcome, forcing you to wake.

Whiskey eyed, smelling like an ashtray,
parked at the back end
of some ghetto ass neighborhood
wondering what the hell you did the night before.

It's like trying to remember words
you haven’t written yet.

One thing is for certain:
a little bit of rope goes a long way,
but a lot of rope
will hang you.