Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: When I Was Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Thursday 1/22/2009 01:19:00 AM

So what if time is a one way street? A dagger that can't be pulled out. Or we bleed to death. I've gone this far. It won't remember if I've lied to it.

Stick it in. The rupture provides the means. Displaced particles fester on the wound. A virus. Excited by dead things.

Time spreads its legs. Let's me taste. The foul of logic. The paradox. Being that I still remember was never was.

I woke up in the coffin. The hole deeper than I could reach. I woke up. With boulders in my skin. Going back. So often. To change nothing.

Why would we go back to change it had it never happened. And so we never did.

The gods kept watching. Counting the toes on the monkeys. The world eventually found us. Just as we had always been. Starving to go back to a place we'd never left.

Telling the truth in lies to everyone.

All time travelers are deaf. Their mouths move. But the words are far behind. God I sid. Be patient.

I'm beginning to get the this puzzle.

0 comments:



Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.