Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: New Clothes Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Monday 5/31/2010 12:36:00 AM

Kate hadn't always been alone. She simply chose to be now. Like the desert chooses sun over rain. Not to die, but to learn to live another way. She spent her days carving her thoughts in the skin of her forearm. Teasing the blood from its veins. In a form of art she casually referred to as zero gravity.

Making scars. indelible artworks she suspected would last. Longer than she. Riding escalators from groin to head. The dubious rituals of careless time travellers. Confronted with a future more past than expected.

Kate didn't keep a journal. She just always remembered. Places. People. Helplessness. Alone she concluded. Was the perfect place to confront them.

The spoiled emperors in their naked gowns. Flaunting their wealth. In polaroids of skin. She tried to ask. Playing the question against itself. When, she admitted, is negligible. Punctured tires. Pulling us down this path.


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