Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Possession Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Wednesday 1/18/2006 11:59:00 PM

There's not time enough left to remember everything. Sift through every moment to find the slivers of gold lost in all that sand. I trust that they are there. That is wealth enough.

There are ways to love yourself even when you don't. In the ways they react. In the wondering where they go and if they'll ever come back.

I just saw then and nothing more. Like I always do. Like the minute hand to the hour. It doesn't know what it's counting toward. But still it must go forward.

They may say I'm lost, but they'd be wrong. I know just where I am. Every blade of grass. Every leaf that falls as this kingdom weeps.

They might see a puzzle in pieces. The image lost to the shape of its disarray. But I know the solution. And it's mine to use as I see fit.

They may appear like storms in summer. Sudden and torrential. Imagining me to be hopeless because hopeless hearts are not wrong to break. Or to be forgotten.

But I am not hopeless. I am merely questioning the nature of.

That we could be so vain to think that the world waits for our invitation. Or that we're even on its guest list.

There's not much to know. The words are deep, but I'm not. There's not much to know. I thought you would've by now if that's what you wanted.

Everything we are. Everything we were. Not lost. Only not ours to keep.

Possession is nine tenths of the law. If there were a law for the things we've done. The other tenth are choices we've made.

More than I can make them, they tend to make me.

2 comments:
Anonymous said...

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Anonymous said...

Alcohol is the motorcycle of beverages. Liver fast, die young.
-Jarod Kintz




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