Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Elbows in Hell Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Sunday 12/07/2008 12:40:00 AM

The atom. Arms crossed. Waiting for fusion. Biting her fingernails down to the color of the choice. If there ever was a choice. As choices choose us. In bruises that never appear. To see. Between if and when. Games. Poker in the mythology of how. We could ever know each other. Wagers. Bits of skin to pay for what was always lost.

She leaned over. On the elbow she always kept in hell. She winked at the god she thought she saw. When the music was loud enough to hear the nothing.

He squinted. Nervous fingers explored the margin of her error. Little bites were all she ever took. Living came in cravings, not meals, she told him.

Long breaths. Spread out for the devils. All men must worship. If it is a woman that they are to love. Quiet lies. No one's ever heard. Found their way inside her. Turned the child old.

Jesus she said was just a carpenter. Just a man. With a big hammer. He couldn't even save himself.

The cold growing bolder. Time leaning over to snatch us up. Games. Hopscotch. I am the stone. Lost in numbered boxes. Found alone.

An elbow in hell. A knee in heaven.

Still no closer.


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