Monday 2/19/2007 12:46:00 AM

There are ways to measure the absence, but I've never cared for their methods. Plastic devil's horns on heavy heads. The sequins in their stare unwilling to negotiate with my pain. That I thought was ours way back when. In the tiny orgasms of love that led me to believe I was that small.

You think too much.

You reason like a corpse does. Death the beginning, not the end. You tell yourself this death is the last one. Like very addict will. So many times. You purchase your loves at the backdoor. From cheap prostitutes. As the lonely must. Swim through those puddles of sour sex to find the new.

Rationalizing your grave in so many metaphors. Wearing those other universes just as they would wear you.

Hoping you won't be found.

De.vile said...

You mean lady, you :) Some post you have here

Prick said...

You have to stop, before I fall harder in love with you.

Should that eventuate I shall have to hunt you down, and pervert your senses.

alcoholic poet said...

dv: mean? i see the smiley, so i know you're kidding, but i don't know how. am curious what you got out of this post.

p: i meant that last line. don't want to be found.

anyway, in love with someone's words or art doesn't translate to loving the person who made them.

De.vile said...

I just find you brutal sometimes, that along with the arid, unattached narration leaves quite a mark.

As for the smiley, it wasnt to indicate 'kidding', just -howshalliputit- admiration.

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