Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Whistling Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Wednesday 1/13/2010 12:47:00 AM

Nothing there. Empty uniforms. She pries the god from his fist. Imaginary tutors for a dysfunctional man.

There is no god. There is no purpose. She tries to warn him. Baffled by his obstinance. There is nothing out there. Just space. In which to get lost. And the failed suicides of sober men.

My science laugh at your heaven. The charismatic dreams of dying men. I've seen inside those walls. Expressions of shame in their weak rebellion.

There's nothing out there. I've studied it all. Each empty chamber that leads me back here. And every rocket elevator that claims the future is ours.

There is no god. There's nothing to interpret except long dead suns. The barren beaches that lead me back to those musty old time machines.

With obvious buttons. And stagnant stairways. Abrupt with the truth.

There is no god. There is no me. No you.

There is only now. And the residual contrition of scarring skin.

0 comments:



Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.