Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Bartering Bad Men Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Wednesday 4/15/2009 12:39:00 AM

The absolute. Fervent malfunctions in touch. Mushroom. Then settle. Deep winters reluctant to breathe. In the simple dances we can identify. As life. Or rather, the art therein. Rabid dogs. Work the backdoor to their advantage.

She gropes for sensation. Liberated cells flaunt the math. Mocking. Of the ill-precision on which sex depends. Correlating. The weakest of those quarks. Arranging them. Astutely in the core of the atom. Orgasm is a mad scientist. The heart is the guinea pig.

The absolute. There is no such thing. Flower petals under their feet as they stomp away from what they almost wanted. Vast gardens in the coma dreams of far away astronauts. Who will wake up to worlds we'll never see.

She negotiates the verbiage. Tall bean stalks wave the giant over her head. A handful of beans. Are nothing. Are everything.


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