Peter A. Weinberg – Poetry

Some things...

   Injury every time you reach—

like love,

   for paradise.

Betrayed again in that dark place…

if you have to ask for them…

   where freaks play shiny black cards.

      A deep sad need to believe—

are not...

   in lies.

   Angels play with our tears like toys—

are not... 

   —they terrify.

worth...

   But this is hot, bleak, windless sleep.

having.

-July 5, 2009-