Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Stones and Glass Houses Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Wednesday 2/22/2006 10:35:00 PM

It plays in the light that defines your cheeks. In the silence that couches your speech. The soft slither of necessity as upon its belly it glides. Indifferent to the virtues of feet.

We knew eachother once. In the way that all the lonely know each other.

Curtain the sun and pretend it's night again. Because the darkness is all there is to trust.

All I wanted was to live. It's all I ever tried to do. So much I can. Fix. And control. So much. But not this.

The treble in your heart as the bass insists. It makes me shudder. Vibrates under my skin. Like a tattoo needle without any ink. It pushes the image under my flesh, but no one can see it.

Vivid and tender is the place where. Painful is the outline.

Everything in ink. No changing.

I only feel alive when something's killing me.

Glass house full of stones.

See through them.

1 comments:
Anonymous said...

"Everything in ink"


...... wow.




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