Creating Fiction is the Creative Fiction

[benedickofwit]

frozen vodka still flows
and curls along the cup
bottom, welling up against itself
the roiling mess. I'm pouring
and pouring. the potential for energy
slipping into torn streams of turbulence.
I find the fuck of ours ain't
easy to forgive.

I'm uneasy in these three dimensions.
When I sway and swing the glass here
this illusion of depth is disconcerting.
because only I'm thin and placid.
The sacrosanct is nothing but sacrilegious.
and here I am the instigator,
instead, the gated. and the loathed.

but for a kiss I found myself
bound and bound
it is. To the interim, to the
disconsolate ends of words
not yours. and I'm not yours.