Thursday 11/17/2005 11:25:00 PM

would've been in hell
if i wasn't already there;
like the way that words change meaning
given the sentence that surrounds.

it's not enough just to say
that you love me now,
or once did,
you have to love me
before i was
and after;

becuase i can't love myself.

the empty bottles that
count long after i've stopped,
they always promise a moment
they never deliver.

just a cocoon wherein the life
still is trying to grow itself;
wings form in slow precipitations
as the truth unwinds.

we couldn've been anything, but
this is what we are;
dirty drinking fountains at
the mouth of the heart.


| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2018. All Rights Reserved.