Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Obvious Pseudonyms Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Friday 2/23/2007 12:23:00 AM

She turned on her cardboard heels and doused him inh her only thought. I'm never lonely so long as it hurts. Just like putting out a fire before it starts.

I'm lips. Drawn in crayons without labels. I'm a droning cunt always vacant. I'm brick red. I'm peach. Words describing things that can't be seen. Microscopic mirrors resounding every resignation.

She took the glass between her fingers like a candy bar pouting red. Hunting for the stop sign pain promises.

He was calm. Still not reflected in the glass.

As she she pushed the pieces deeper into her arm.

She was looking at the floor. Tracing the footstep. A calloused map.

Of all the plasces we can never go again.

3 comments:
Anonymous said...

that was verys ad

RuKsaK said...

how quickly do you come up with your poems? you post very often and prolifically and it amazes me how swiftly you seem able to put together these mini masterpieces.

alcholic poet said...

that was one of my more cheerful pieces jase.

ruk: hmm... the writing is usually pretty speedy. between 10 and 15 minutes per. when i spend too much time on something it's bound to suck.

idunno why i write so often. a lot of times it just feels like i have to though i can't pinpoint a reason.

it's kinda weird. after a couple beers i'll open up a blogger window and just type out the first abnormal thought to pop into my head (they are plentiful). then i chase it until it stops running.

how does the process work for you?




Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.