Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Black Cocoons Give Birth Obliquely Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Monday 11/19/2007 01:48:00 AM

If you're hungry I can give you something to wear. If you're cold I can tell you what to say. Cause I know both of them better than I should.

I don't remember how I old I was the first time that alone made sense. I just know it was too long ago now to argue with. And that I'm all for ending a sentence with a preposition if it means someone will remember.

You can say what you want about various gods, but I think they're misunderstood. Used condoms of angels bursting on mortal dicks. Poor lubricants for the painful sex acts we use to make us human.

Grim fairy tales playing poker with what's left of sobriety. Big bad wolfs and quivering piglets. Each with their own reasons to hate. The stories we've culled from their hardships.

I'm never drunk. But I'm never really sober. They'll name their saviors after themselves. As if the world knows they're there. A butterfly in the cup of their fist. Wondering if they'll ever let it go?

I'd like to say I've changed.

But I haven't. Not yet.

God said kill yourself. But he wasn't listening. God said I don't care. And for the first time I believed him.

Anonymous said...

i think i know that you dixie?

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