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Alcoholic Poet's Sad PoemsAlcoholic Poet's Sad PoemsThink. Write. Drink. In that order. Everything is dark. Everything is bright. 
Articles
Saltwater
2007-09-24 08:04:00 The monkey was comfortable with his heels on. Betting on the skirt. Lost in discovering a penis amongst scribbles on her thighs. Deciding. In apt digressions. Which habit would be best to worship. The monkey was lounging all right on its parable of Eden. Hands of god snapping in the wings of every bird. Jesus Christ starring in a reality show about children of absentee fathers. She slowly More About: Twater
Afterglow
2007-09-24 07:16:00 At ten after one he took off his watch. But was still too sober to close his eyes. She read his penis as she would any textbook. Scanning for facts. Answers to questions not yet asked. Some people don't sleep. They just close their eyes and lie there until their brain surrenders. Faint comas rescue the heroes of poor dime store novellas. In the hiss of quiet songs too commercial for their craft More About: Afterglow
Simple Acts of Algebra
2007-09-24 07:08:00 When she's a hooker, she's a mean one. All stiletto heels and yeast infections. It's extra if you want her to say your name. And even more to have her sound like she means it. When she's a clown. She's a jolly one. Carrying her foamy red nose with her wherever she goes. Swimming in circles inside those big shoes. Naming her character after the scars on her arms. She's always a word or two More About: Simple
Words Pretend
2007-09-21 06:36:00 An urgent piss languishes at the back of her throat. The riddle still a riddle. The answer still a risk she's not willing to take. The inches bewtweent villains and lovers somehow immeasurable now that I'm one or the other. Maybe both. His eyes flutter like the wings of a starving moth. Trapped inside this world within the world. Where living is only speculation. We'll say it's been too long. More About: Words
The Calm of Ashes
2007-09-20 06:04:00 I watch the Simpsons. I drink. Negotiating with delirium. Or not caring. I don't know the difference. There are barrettes to sweetly hold the moments in place. Small caucuses of humiliation that form the foundation of happiness. I stir the rice for too long. Adding ingredients arbitrarily. Watching movies it seems I've already seen under different names. Eating meals I'm certain I've previously More About: Ashes , Calm
Selling Blowjobs... Half Price If You're Quick
2007-09-19 06:55:00 She tells the hurricane to wait. She's not ready for it yet. Little women written into the diaries of big girls. The franchise of happiness sells its two dollar colas at the concession stand of used condoms. I've had all kinds of sex. The meaningless. The privileged and the kind that takes two flushes to get rid of. But the fact is, love comes in only two flavors. Bland or bitter. And all these More About: Selling , Quick , Price , Half
Debating Aesop
2007-09-18 07:01:00 On her toadstool. With the flies buzzing about her vagina. thick legs snatch their dinner from the cloud of biting insects sucking at her insides. The needle goes in both directions. The poison flows just as well from host to parasite. Clumped on her toadstool. In kneads of self. The fable tells her to bet on the tortoise, but experience tells her most morals lie. The world sways slightly to one More About: Aesop
Onion Skins
2007-09-17 06:22:00 He kneaded the calm in small libations. Drawing on and erasing in the same strokes. Isn't that the difference between sex and love? How much you're willing to steal? When I was in love it was always more a devil than a god. The cloven hoof my ancestors had forbidden me to eat too great of an inspiration. When I was young enough to still fall in love I never did actually fall. Not without a rope More About: Skins , Onion
Oblique Gradens
2007-09-16 08:00:00 Dreams to sleep enough. Porcelain collars on steel necks. The nightmare wore its best gown for the occasion. Confident heels clicked all the way up the stairs. Until the door made us deaf. There were heroes. In damp boots. Villains in moldy capes. All drawn across the moment in thick outlines. Nervous to be colored in. The quake of sex. In pungent packets of fetid potpourri. Spoiled perfume
Shelf Life
2007-09-16 07:16:00 Sometimes I don't write. And wait for the words instead. Dining on little hiccups of vomit not brutal enough to breach my lips. My stomach empty except for the hunger that keeps it full. We never turn the lights on. We never even bother with the curtains. Seeing is so easy. All I want to do is make it harder. Turn the fruit inside out. Make the pit the focus. That is where it came from after More About: Life , Shelf
Silhouteetes in Ink
2007-09-14 06:52:00 Stale dogma of touch all that there is left to worship. The germ between her look and her word. Bits of cancer looking for a host. Finding only victims. They die too quickly. My disease gets so bored. The skin I've chartered for this trip. Glossy lollipops uncomfortable in their cellophane dresses. Stranded in that last square of hopscotch for want of a stone to throw. For lack of another foot
Origami
2007-09-13 06:30:00 Away. away. Creamy kittens painted orange. Claws melting under the fury of the itch. Sour moons splint the broken windows. Dragging the glass behind them on stretcher made of skin. Every day is coming. Monsters in stiletto heels. Every day is leaving us. The second drawn in crayon over the terrible beige of life. I'm a monster. In small sneakeers. Sneaking up on myself. I'm a hero. With too More About: Origami
Passive Aggressive Wishes
2007-09-11 05:58:00 Big hills in small steps. Short walks over a long distance. Like drunk sex. Needing to be naked. From the inside out. Born into oblivion. One stranger at a time. Falsely casual sex. A perfect dissection of each motive of every hole the female body compulsively flaunts. Bright, little thunderstorms erupt from quiet skin. She wants to be penetrated. Sex. The incessant sting of angry yellow jackets. More About: Wishes , Passi , Passive
A Little After Eleven
2007-09-10 08:30:00 seldom comes on crooked heels. swimming softly in open fists. no funerals. nor weddings. not celebrations at all. these sweet restraints. licorise handcuffs chew their way through my skin. I'm not even there. My breath. The parachute to that empty dress. I can't prove I've ever worn. woken up. by the birds in the tree outside. those small windows let so much in. the sheets. folding in meager More About: Litt
Comatose is the Least of my Worries
2007-09-09 07:23:00 I somehow thought going away would change me. Like going under water. Holding my breath. For as long as I could. Nothing permanent. Just something so that the surface would be reward enough. One big breath. Then a long, long time until the next. Like how everything is. Stale until you gamble with it. The clamor of slot machines between the words as I lose. And lose. And lose again. Until More About: Matos
Evaluating the Beaks of Vultures
2007-09-08 06:17:00 Pretty freckles on her arms pull her underwear down over her thighs. He's there. Not quite inside her. But near enough that she blinks a little quicker. Her irises swim in bowls of milk to big for them. Snap. Crackle. And popping to the motion of her thoughts. As they flicker across her stare. Bits of movies we'll never live to see. But we were in them. If you look close. We were there when the More About: Vultures
Skydiving
2007-09-07 06:13:00 With woolly eyes she bit her nails. Too far down. Small arcs of flesh exposed too tender to withstand the world. The stomp of worn boots as they shimmy over the slick of her walk. A library of diagnoses under her pillow. One more. One more. One more drink. And then I'll be able to sleep. Or at least wake up as if I had. I pull on that familiar string. The parachute opens, but falling More About: Skydiving
Six Dollar Drinks
2007-09-06 05:05:00 Between the bar and sleep there is the catapult of drug that teaches me. When to listen and when to write. In a tornado of tuxedos and gowns. Loud conversations laced with alcohol and wealth. When each drink costs at least an hour I learn to write faster. Stealing the moment from under their toasts. Quietly. At one end of the bar I wait for the music to retire. I watch as they petition the gods More About: Drinks , Dollar , Doll
Murder's Sermons
2007-08-31 06:31:00 Knowing the window was enough. Gentle bombs. The calm of catastrophe in pajamas too big for her. Each pillow a novel she wished she could write. Each bottle a suicide she'd fucked up. The night like a Christmas tree. All lit up with nothing underneath. Things I never wanted. Tombstones in mirror making them alive again. The ladder's still there. I'm still standing on it. Trying to decide. More About: Sermons , Mons
Pistils and Stamens
2007-08-30 06:15:00 We were leaving. In little gulps. A rooster in the middle of every nap. We were leaving together. Going somewhere alone. In little sips of big drinks. In nervous parades of skin we marched with gummy bear toes. With saltwater taffy shin. I waited for the first bite of too far. Prepared to limp the rest of the way. The long stretch of clarity that these thick, sweet lies thin. Sticky moats of More About: Mens , Amen
A Void in the World
2007-08-28 06:03:00 It's the distance between picking the place and going there that always gets in the way. Open bottles sifting through the debris of various moments. At soft angles. Gentle enough so that I can't smell. Decision disappearing into alcohol. Choices made long ago. Threaded through my skin in sloppy stitches. Holding together holes that still haven't closed. The hour in its denim. Thick with More About: World , The World
Apple Juice and Menstruation
2007-08-27 08:04:00 In the cold dreams of morning. Sour stockings over her head. Tepid bras clenching her breasts. She ticks. A bony stopwatch flirting with the speed of decision. I am here. And there. And every place I've ever been. In suspenders of skin stretched taut to elevate sagging hearts. It's not like I wake up thinking this is day [insert number here] of my life. Multiply. Carry the one. X over N. I'm More About: Apple , Juice , Apple Juice , Mens
Scaffolds
2007-08-27 07:40:00 Dobermans of discourse bark stout. Collared, but without muzzle. Aren't we there? Or near enough to know. If the home is heart. My children all in words. My offspring in black ink. Rabid as ever. No vaccine strong enough. To stop the virus already begun. I can count the stitches in their frown. Atoms misbehaving as I try on those old close (clothes). They still fit, but they never will. More About: Caff , Fold
Cradles of Jacob
2007-08-26 07:03:00 in soft cankers the word prevails. sore lips practice in front of the mirror. home enough for anyone. or myself at least. the smooth dungeons habits build. creaking staircases down to cellars forgot. kept in jewels not rare enough to envy. Nor dark enough to fear. Toiling in the collapse. The velvet of demons poised for orgasm. Wide smiles deciding which side they're on. In dreams interrupted. More About: Jacob , Cradle
Pottery Wheels
2007-08-26 06:32:00 The hair on his chest wasn't enough that you'd notice, but he knew it was there. And always left his shirt open in the hope that someone would see. The tiny snakes emanating from his skin. And assume there still was venom in those rotted fangs. Or at least be charmed enough to pretend that they'd been poisoned. By him. In sculptures of touch. Balls of clay still wet in her nervous grip. The More About: Wheels , Pottery , Heels , Heel , Eels
Reflections Feasting
2007-08-25 06:25:00 She turned the window inside out. And found. An eternity of eyes that had never seen anything. A pergotory of stares dissolving in a pan too hot. The drip of the naked glass so much louder than she had imagined it would be. As it seeped out of its clothes. Drop by drop. Sips of beer like onion skin carelessly tracing my thought. In fragments of punctuation. In epiphanies that can't recall. What I More About: Reflections
Perditions in Altitude: Fawns
2007-08-25 06:18:00 I listen to the rain in brutal reprises. I wear the footsteps that make up the mountain. They're always falling down. Like I am. The room pivots. About the axis in his exit. Plastic army men cup together to diffuse the bomb. That's yet to hit. Sobered by the prospect. Of remembering death. The short sleeves of lovers. The tank tops of sex. Sewing buttons to the heads of broken zippers. The
Servants of Midsummers
2007-08-22 07:02:00 You're wrong. I am different It's you who is flawed if you can't see. The threads over the holes in my socks. Can't hear the hiccup of running feet. Maybe you're deaf. Maybe you're blind. It doesn't matter. I know. You'll never hear. Never see. Don't want to. It's not our hunger that's to blame as we starve. but we still hate it.
What Isn't There
2007-08-21 07:34:00 I'm there. In long shorts. In the camouflage of spoiled hearts. Blurs of decision filtering through the words. In a logic puzzle of I can't count. Bottles like limbs negotiating the traumas of touch. Little explosions that kill so much. Swimming through the appetites of people. Disguise by disguise. Tossed into the mask they've discarded. Confined by the roles they've been assigned. He walks
The Logic of Zeroes
More articles from this author:2007-08-20 07:01:00 Only half a bottle left. But more than that to tell. The paradox of the poet. Of the addict. Of the person left to launder on the rope in their tug of war. Stiff skin. Bellows against the breeze. Lingers over the mud in the middle. Of a pulling contest only alone ever wins. No paragraph short enough to dissuade this scavenger from picking at what's left of the carcass. It's already dead. And my More About: Logic , Logi 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 |
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