Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: What Big Eyes You Have Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Sunday 10/18/2009 01:25:00 AM

The monsters pissing loudly. Woke her up. From a dream she was barely having. She cried that it wasn't fair. In a flurry of torn dresses. The mania more than caution enough. For vultures on the hunt.

Toying with the fail safe. As she often would. Determined to prove. It didn't make sense. That every day took them further away from the world that they knew. And each time that they were throttled back represented another wolf in her already heavy picnic basket.

I'll huff. Once I catch my breath. And I'll puff. The trajectory of hapless atoms. Like all villains. I am obvious. The time machine. The whelp of science. Struggling to remove. The conditions we've set. For the future.

It never seemed very far. Though years passed. I always thought these dark woods were the only way to get there. And that the wolf would be sorry he had eaten me.

It's in the atoms. The smallest pieces. Where the power is found. I scribbled on the pillow that I'd be back, but those changes snuck up on me. I detonated the bomb. But nothing died. Rubber ducks. Burnt, but still afloat. In the dirty bath water I'd left to choose. Which skins I'd next try on.

I paused. The splinters in my side. Carving hungry pictures. Finger paints moist on her brow. Tiny frowns. Congealing in the wrinkled above her eyes.

I stopped and waited for the world to catch up with me. Not knowing it had passed me by long ago.

Contraptions built still stutter and spin. As I collect the future in empty tins.

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