Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Magnificent Comas Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Wednesday 5/07/2008 12:30:00 AM

I'd like more choices. Two aren't enough.

When I choose not to decide no one listens.

He has the road maps on his ass. I just didn't follow it. Now I don't know where I am, except that no one else is here. I shunned those little conformities. And now I've been shunned by the bigger ones.

I think god sells lemonade on the side of road. In wooden stands. Out of plastic pitchers. Like any child would. Broke and naive to the conditions of humanity. I think god is the big bad wolf in all those fairy tales where children get eaten. Cut his belly open. Save them. Save everyone.

From the paranoia. The hysteria of those that would try to control us.

I think love isn't that different. Serving best only those that would abuse it. Taking advantage of the rest.

I think I'm thirsty. And I'd gladly buy any one's lemonade. Including god's. if it could cure my thirst.

But I'm just silly like that. I want results.

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