Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Prime Numbers Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Saturday 8/21/2010 01:21:00 AM

A wild confusion in the thrust of the machine. As it pushes forward on severed limbs. Taking her with it. A cascade of dominoes as she opens her dress for another chance.

Writing down the numbers. The series urges her on. As she chases the sequence. That evasive unity that will prove her progress. Days stay the same. Nights languish in their filthy litter box. Shit and piss is home. It's the math that moves us. The starving future in her arms. Wears her close to the skin.

An often. A seldom. The trivial extravagances of time and touch. She scribbles on her chalkboard. A series of sums and destinations. A killing board of choices. Too easily erased.

Everything and nothing. The beginning and the end. A walking stick fetching the contours of the darkness. As blind feet take their last steps.

She writes her message on the chalkboard. And promptly erases it.

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