Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Freedom Rings; No One PIcks Up Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Wednesday 5/07/2008 12:04:00 AM

They have the advantage.

The funny thing is people think it matters. How well they cook. How much money they have. How pretty that once were. As if time can discern between the billions of flies constantly landing on its excrement. Or that it would want to. Or ever would try. To care about the insects that live in its shit.

If I were a nihilist I'd say that the end is near. But I'm not. So I'll just say that it's watching. Has never been very distant. And I wouldn't mind at all if it finally came.

We can buy and sell so many things. Without profiting from a single transaction. That's the paradox of being American.

Having everything.

And nothing.

1 comments:
LORENZO said...

Cool title and a great read. I like this one the best so far. I'm reading more.

LL
http://crownedwithlaurels.blogspot.com/

You're invited.




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