Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: The Expiring Credentials of Touch Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Friday 1/06/2023 11:51:00 PM

 we spent our time on the fulcrum. though the lever mattered just as well. 

we spun on our toes. sticks in the wind. waiting for the storm to measure our incentives. 

worn by the edge. shallow trespassers. in a fairy tale of our own invention. 

our weight shifted. the engine stalled. 

where we were emptied its pockets. 

we negotiated the abyss. drawing our escape in stolen pencils. 

solving the void with soiled dresses. and the places that we left behind. 



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