I'll tell you why it's over. Because it is.
Because my tongue tastes like expired xanax and the answer to every question I compulsively ask myself is no. Not yet.
I'll tell you I'm over only when it's the truth. The pungent gaff of your wisdom nearly sobers me up.
The dog on its hind legs may stand, but it's only steady on all fours. Just once for me, fall down. Admit you're not entirely independent.
You're not what you tell me you are. You're what I'm left with when gravity wins.
It's over because it never really started. Broken pistol began the race. Missing line was the finish.
It's over because I say it is. Since you were never kind enough to say it for me.
My heart. Even for free you wouldn't take it. And I can't decide if that makes you a good man.
Wednesday
6/14/2006 10:16:00 PM
Just short of brutal, with a hint of disdain, yet not without compassion. A statement of what is without being a diatribe. Very good.
You are killing me. ;-)
Your poetry is strong, emotive, and so tragic... I love it and I hate it at the same time...
But the hardest part is the fact that you bring back memories of someone I once knew, someone who's been gone for 20 years...
You're not my X-wife are you?
Keep it up, your work is fantastic!
thanx guys.
bp: ex-wife... haha. 20 years ago i was only 11 years old.
WOW....
JD
thanx scoots.
I am glad I happened your way.
Nothing is happenstance. Everything is happenstance.
I shall be here.
vvm: thanx. i shall be here as well.
Okay, so now I know you're not my X, but now I know how old you are...
Whatever you do, keep penning and posting your verse. I can't claim to be an alcoholic but I do know the black depths of depression far too well-- far too well.
I guess the process is different for all of us, or maybe it's a guy/girl thing but when I'm down I write something funny and when I'm up I sometimes write sad.
It's as if I don't really believe I'm up.
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