Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Intellectual Dobermans Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Tuesday 8/01/2006 11:20:00 PM

One more lie I CAN live with.

That's all I need.

As the stale souvenirs of sex litter the floor. Footprints on my arms as words thumb through open shoelaces. The huff of our thinking audible again. As we inventory all the faces we only just took off.

They sure do go far.

Assless panties still trying to look full. Bright with the scent of that hysteria. The kind that comes from knowing you are and still wanting to lose.

You'll say it's easy. That I don't even try. But you're wrong. It isn't easy at all. Giving in.

Fetching every day with a leaky bucket. Running. Hoping to beat the hole.

Knowing.

It will always win.

2 comments:
Anonymous said...

It seems to me it's time to move back to your old poem site.
hmmm....

Anonymous said...

why?

i suck, don't i? am no longer poetic. perhaps never was.

well, changing url's isn't going to fix it.

you know, if you select the "Other" radio button you can type in any name you want instead of always being "Anonymous". it's not like you're actually anonymous. not to me anyway.




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