Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Refraction Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Friday 11/28/2008 01:28:00 AM

The atom on its knees. Choking on the tether. Life. Bones and meat. In a puddle of time. Loud, dirty footsteps beat the future into the man. Every muscle a broken scale. Measuring the darkness with empty hands.

If I multiply. Then it's near that cusp. Where everything is weightless. Sparse gardens on the rim of her breasts. Turning solid. Slowly. Until each petal has fallen. And we start over again. With new seeds.

Chasing the timeline with a cold oven and a hot poker. Finding no one.

The atom on its leash. Jumping rope. Not enough wine. Too much substance. The numbers coming closer. Feeble gods with their zipperss still open. Nobody laughing.

The knives taking their time. To honor her throat.

Her blood remembering Schrodinger. Wondering if it was.

The dead cat. Its poison. So much like love. We are alive. We are dead. It's all the same. Inside this box. The atoms on the outside powerless. The friviolous math of the penis. Too apt to add. The nothings.

No one can see. No one knows. What time it is.


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