Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: The Science of Skin Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Tuesday 4/22/2008 12:50:00 AM

Do you have a piano handy? Someone is standing by to be crushed. Don't want to disappoint them.

The big things. The heavy motherfuckers. They're the most fragile. If they don't arrive broken they're broken soon enough.

Say what you will about liars. At least. At least you know what to expect.

I was all caught up in deciding how far the future was away from the past when it occurred, or I remembered some one's theory that they're all the same. Mutual plane, different time lines. A messy, messy debate. That ultimately always ends in more skins than I could ever fill.

So maybe physics isn't the best answer. Or at least not the one I can best control. We spend our lives arguing with gravity. Trying to convince it we are better than it.

We try. And try again. To convince it that it's mistaken. But it always wins.


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