alcoholicpoet.com

A sad poem about the passage of time. 

negotiate the withered thorns.
the frail geometry of lingering scabs.
absent arbiters stumble toward vacant Edens. 

the story whispers of deceit. 
thin shadows lurking in the grin of gravity. 

our masks are soft as we peel them away from our faces.
our pockets are empty as we search for the familiar. 

change chokes on the remains of our grief. 
choice cuts with a jagged blade. 

time counts our pennies as we make our wishes.
lambs in wolf's clothing.
sipping the blood. 

we lay down quietly. in truth's soiled bed. 
and pretend to believe. 

Filed under: October 2024 Sad Poetry

alcoholicpoet.com

this poem is about the humility of choice. 

the machine was quiet as we left it to idle. a slender bridge. a gaunt stick. in a contentious autonomy.

small corridors choke on the galloping distance.

the bite of tomorrow. swift and acerbic. the glory of time's slow apocalypse.

tally the dead. ignore the living.

the engine is ours to manipulate. the foul sum of consent. trust's breath on the windows. as the atoms whisper their lies.

 skin like fire. touch like pouring rain.

the box is still closed. the question still squirming inside of it. 

the answer.  a single dose of poison we've yet to taste. 

Filed under: October 2024 Poetry

created by alcoholicpoet

this poem tells the story of the frailties that make us strong. 

the temperament of intimacy is an isolated equation. thick with tears and soot.

touch is a contract. filthy with choices.

our past walks in front of us. our bodies all jagged bits of catastrophe. left behind by strangers in familiar skins.

the crux of time is in its debt to us. an eternal bargain struck between capitulation and defiance.

we tie our knots in the throat of tomorrow. grinning as it struggles to breathe.

the truth is just a sum. a broken protagonist in a tale without an ending.

we break and twist. helplessly tethered to this rotting flesh.  frantically touching each other in a perpetual series of promises almost kept. 

we are the only real gods. harvesting life from all that we've lost. 

Filed under: September 2024 Sad Poems. 

alcoholicpoet.com

the angle of trust is dependent upon the trajectory of skin.

touch stumbles through its math. distance devours the remainder.

we clutch the pieces. imagining the whole. frail predators gnawing on empty bones.

time crawls out of its skin. a charlatan in sweet smelling robes.

life presses itself against the glass. but the truth refuses to let it in.

we're only a scratch on the face of eternity. that barely bleeds.

the wolf quivers in his hunt. salivating at the thought of the kill.

but his prey is evolving. learning. his weaknesses.

his earnest claws an impotent artifact.

his once ample fangs, dulled by time. 

Filed under: September 2024 Poetry

created by alcoholicpoet.com

this poem is about the evolution of self and/or the lack thereof. 

 time bites its lip as it begins to speak. still corrupted by yesterday's idling engines.

their bodies like templates. pieces and puzzles to be solved. in the brutal hierarchy of touch.

our eyes steal moments from the abyss. our voices cut meat from their corpses.

the truth is tender. everything else is sharp. survival is merciless.

the days count us as we fumble through the fog. eyes wide, still unwilling to see.

gravity simmers inside us. patiently waiting for us to reach the edge. 

Filed under: September 2024 Sad Poetry. 

alcoholicpoet.com

this poem is about the changes that define us. 

 the exit scolds her as she attempts her escape. time tumbles. all falling leaves and papercuts. the darkness quietly clings to its remaining spark. even as the winter devours the flame. 

choices are fertile. skin is like gallows. someone will hang today. 

the world is tender. half eaten meat. and the animals are voracious. 

the storm is timid. unsure of its strength. 

but the sky is earnest. and the soil is ambivalent. 

her touch is shallow as she pretends to trust the game. 

her pieces are scattered. as she continues to maneuver them.

no longer interested in winning. 

wearing each puzzle like a new face. 

while all the world becomes a stranger. 

Filed under: September 2024 Sad Poetry