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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
Cleavage Found
2008-01-29 06:12:00 The shotgun in her tits was loaded. Ammuniton is cheap. It's the weapons that cost us. We always want to name the world after ourselves, but it never listens when we tell it that it's ours. Little dogs in big shelters. Cages become us. Wanting anyone to take us home. The 45 in under her fingernails wanted any excuse to fire. Barbie dolls on heroin reason with methodone kens. Of course I'm More About: Cleavage
Absent Training Wheels
2008-01-29 05:52:00 No one wonders. At least, I've never seen evidence to the contrary. Had I been willing to bet I would've bet on nothing. No one. But I never bet on anything other than surrender. The itchy grease paint that turns people into characters. Tiny words on their faces I almost can't read. Dialogue like an antibiotic for missing saviors and sobriety's not yet recovered. Still mine. Or someone like More About: Training , Wheels
Test Patterns
2008-01-28 07:18:00 Ill with determination she scribbled the disease in chunks of vein. Tort lips arguing with gravity again. Pieces of train track lost in finding where they've never been. The piano on his hip laughing c chords in unison with faulty wisdoms about what I should want. I don't want anything. The smoke spills from her nose and she imagines herself a dragon. The fire in her throat real at last. The More About: Test , Patterns
Fighting with the Treble
2008-01-27 06:22:00 Damnable. Sure. When you consider all the fat of the wing. The point of the pencil blunted by the grace of women undone enough to know they're not wanted. I think I know why it's so hard. Love wants proof. Photographs of smiles. Life wants trials. Witnesses that can't remember who killed who. It doesn't matter now. Everyone's dead. The dinosaur in the window won't go extinct because we More About: Fighting , Treble
Shallow Epiphanies
2008-01-27 05:26:00 He handed me a memory in a plain foil packet. I would've thought that he'd have dated it. The only jurors in our eyes. The only criminals in our skin. I said I couldn't keep it. That I'm not much for hanging onto things. He gave it to me anyway. Trust has nothing to do with honesty. It must've mattered then even if it doesn't now. Strange how it fools us that way. Finding the words to tell it
January's Wisdom
2008-01-26 07:30:00 Dirty fudgesicles make this coldness a religion. Arrows at the back of her throat point in every direction. He could've saved me. Had he only saved himself first. Not that I needed to be saved. Or wanted to. I could stand up every domino and still not be dsiappointed when they fall. Ice cubes melting. Just like we do. More About: Wisdom
Assuming I've Ever Existed
2008-01-24 06:01:00 How does the doll stand up on soft legs. The wax still loathe to coagulate. She kneels. Barfing on empty thrones. Until the king calls her name. The mold is cut in half to determine where the defect is. Be it in the product or the ideal. Her taffy skin betrays her cause as she attempts negotiations with the robotic arms that have made her so. Blunt candy canes become daggers with enough
Enhanced by Cataracts
2008-01-23 06:52:00 I was old before I was young. Cigarettes and skin doing performance art in my underpants. Red tantrums of womanhood escaping the neat receptacles I bought for them. Possible tears on trial for fraud. Teddy bears face first in the graveyard. Curious with their pink felt tongues. How these mountains came from nowhere to separate us. The perpetual presumes us in delicate intervals. Time paces in
Spawning Upstream
2008-01-22 07:01:00 Eyes like bus stations. Terminals. Where the end meets with the start in a paradox of confounded senses. The taste of transport. Tin and calm as we jump through these portals called memory. The stories our brains tell when confronted with limits. Skin. Its subtle time machine dropping us off in moments passed. Places where the bone is all we are. Decorations in place of the person. Hanging
Dead Batteries In Remote Controls
2008-01-21 07:03:00 I went looking for lies to tell myself. The kind that distort your face with plastic wrap, but have holes enough to let you breathe. I went out wearing the roll of the dice and came home with nothing. Little girls don't know what they want. Big one aren't sure what they can have. It's not the men. It how willing we are to be used by them if it might mean not sleeping alone. There in her More About: Batteries , Dead , Remote
Antonymns In Calm Resolve
2008-01-20 06:40:00 Fingers like dicks and skin made of cardboard. Upstairs they say is where to go if that's what you want to wear. Plastic bow ties hewn from ribbons of malice. Little gods on big thrones pretending to know us. Swimming in her pantyhose she held her breath for as long as she could. Suffocating always seemed more appropriate. Imagining the nylon to be some sort of suicide contraption. A guillotine More About: Calm
Saturated
2008-01-19 07:02:00 The name. Letters espoused from the pores on her ass. Friends a technicality in a trial of sober. Skin pickled and jarred in dark basements. Sold out in the open. Small lies, she says, to make the world inhabitable. Big ones, to make it forget. The choice frozen on tiny ladders. Afraid. Jello molds of people. No flavor. Just color. Movement. Assuming the empty is bigger than I am. Tigers in
Ravens
2008-01-17 07:28:00 The black bird in the bit stream flies closely to the conversations I always have, but never finish. Penises as spoiled tourniquets for bleeding vaginae on the verge of realizing the void is everything. Everything is nothing. Nothing is the hour I was born in and the eternity in which I've lived. Everything. And nothing. Pale twins finishing each other's sentences in gobs of phlegm and broken More About: Ravens
Conversations with Men
2008-01-16 06:27:00 Silly girl, he said. You, with your eyes sewn to the back of your head. How do you see where you're going? I can tell by where I've been. Pretty girl wearing your ugly face. Do you think you're fooling anyone? Yes. All of them. Silly girl, he said. You, with your thoughts carved into your wrists. Are you dead yet? No, but It feels the same. Sad girl wearing your happy face. Who are you
Oblique Tutorials
2008-01-15 07:35:00 I was debating with monkey over who came from where. Dark lanterns in the hands of the mischievous make for magnificent religions. His face, like mine, drawn in ink around the hair. His hate as potent. His gods as loud as I was able to hear. At some point I'm done and it doesn't matter what I want. The floor decides it's time to fall Hanged men can't be revived. I might die. It's true what he More About: Tutorials
Hopscotch without Stones
2008-01-14 07:15:00 Prom queens in borrowed dresses dancing in shoes that don't fit. To power ballads sickening the room with the romantic vomit of so many drunken optimists. No underwear. Just genitals with bigger mouths than contingency plans. The deer on the windshield. The antlers in her throat. As she bent down to pick up the remnants of its hoof. Hunters see a meal. Vegetarians a murder. I see efforts better More About: Stones
Probability and Statistic
2008-01-13 06:16:00 There are marathons to run. Punish the bones to strengthen muscles. There are diseases to cure. New ones to make up. So they can sell their drugs. I'll just do nothing. The dark so sure. Like birthday candles on a cake that won't extinguish. Rows of orange eyes that never blink. Coaxing wrists to turn over. Convincing bottles to open. There are lives to live. Everywhere. But no one is. I was More About: Probability
Grease Paint and Red Noses
2008-01-13 06:02:00 Life is something the living often overlook. That's the clinical me, not the poetic. That's the girl with not enough stories and too many friends. That's the woman who want to be alone, but not for the reasons she is. Life is a measure. Of breath. And pulse. And skin. A flash on a monitor. People give it essence. If they can. Maybe I just want to die. Or in other words, have never wanted to More About: Grease , Paint
Various Anomolies
2008-01-12 07:15:00 Thwarted passengers on a long bus. Dense with discussions about infinity. I'm still there. Adding and subtracting. Even when everything has given up on counting. Faces. little embryos of lies spawning a species. I'm there on your cheek. The threat of color thickening your words. I can hear. All the things he never said. Flesh rumbling to life as we insert our key into the ignition. Idling there
Hook and Loop Closure
2008-01-11 06:27:00 My words don't mean anything. Waking up without them. Falling asleep to their dying. These tabloids of skin tell so many lies. It's impossible not to read them. Jiffy pop hearts expand until the cracks are all they have to covet. Wrinkled aluminum dances against the heat. Subtle drugs pretend to know us un all the ways known else ever has. Touch lies so well that I almost believe it. When More About: Closure , Loop , Hook
.htaccess
2008-01-10 07:09:00 Nowhere. No one. Knotted eyes struggle to untangled what they see. Gods lay the mortar. Demons the bricks. This is our home. Anywhere I don't remember having already been. Skin like a parachute afraid to open. Letting us fall. I fall no faster as the falling lingers. It's just an illusion. Gravity is louder when you know it's there. Years worth of sleep in just a few days and still I'm tired.
Embezzlling Grief
2008-01-09 05:56:00 I've been plagiarized. Again. For a crappy poet a lot of people sure like to pretend they've penned what I have. I'd point you at the thief, except the site is gone now. I wrote to wordpress and I guess they deleted it. I think I took the wrong course of action. I should've revealed to the Internet the location of her thief blog allowing the entirety of said Internet (or at least the few More About: Grief
Plain Vanilla
2008-01-08 07:18:00 Should I lie. Say I'm someone else? Maybe, in fact, I am. That lie the mirror tells again and again. That stranger in the tattered nightgown that the sheets always try to, but never can undress. Blunt abortions of touch spilling from bent fingers. No offspring. No legacy other than moments hijacked by barren others. Not there at all unless I can open those wounds they've yet to discover. I More About: Plain , Vanilla
Chorus of Thieves
2008-01-06 07:30:00 It's mine. Not yours. It's mine. All you can is take the piss of it. Dirty girls flirting with the toilets in their heads. Kissing so much shit searching for happy endings. It's mine. No one else's. They crawl inside my discarded skins. Reluctant viruses foul the world with the enthusiasm of their sickness. It's stolen. Identity is gone. And no one wants to save it. It's mine, but now it's
Stubborn Stains On Her Dress
2008-01-04 07:05:00 I am falling on him. Like rain. Sunshine. Gods on graves. The world is a lie we tell ourselves. In patches of skin. The same bandages cover the wounds that once made them. My choices are a garden thick with weeds. My choices are a poison nothing real can grow inside. So I draw in the flowers where I imagine they might've sprouted. Pretending it's my fault because blaming them only makes we More About: Dress
The Words of Men
2008-01-01 07:43:00 I used to tell him I was unhappy and he'd say it was my fault. I think he said it to himself more than me. Some men love too much. Others not at all. I don't which ones are wrong. Maybe both. Maybe neither. I only know what I've been. Stranger either way. I only know what they've told me. Little lies become big ones. It's finally tomorrow and I don't know what to do with it. Scanning More About: Words
Deities In Plain Clothes
2007-12-31 08:08:00 Sad now because sleep was gone. The iron rabbit foiled by the paper tortoise. She woke up the ant and told it to begin foraging again. As if food were scarce. Because it was. Always hard to come by lasting meals. Genuine salvation. God wasn't looking as she tore off a piece of paper from the tablet. God wasn't interested that the ink her pen had run dry. Calculations came in failing concrete. More About: Clothes , Plain , Cloth
Suffocating in Cures
2007-12-31 07:41:00 Consuming herself in doses. One disease to quiet the next in a tireless cycle of killing herself to live. Toothless lion biting antelope necks. Gaining nothing except perspective. The truth of tomorrow is that it knows us before we do it. A womb from which we explode. Born over and over again until there is nothing left of from where we came. Children of nothing making gods from the voids in
Reasoning with The Truth
2007-12-30 08:05:00 The whisper an accomplice to so many crimes. Broken briars like useless fingering trying to grab. Bits of skin still uncooked after we've left the on the heat too long. Cold! The dishrag in your grin makes it impossible to see. Look like I still have eyes long after I've let the vultures have my sight. Seeing isn't enough. Burnt. Bits of caramel thoughts lost to the heart. THe sugar turned to More About: Truth , Ruth , The Truth
The Weather in Empty Lobbies
More articles from this author:2007-12-28 06:43:00 The bed didn't care whether she slept in it or not. It stood there empty either way. All her sleep hostage consciousness. All her rest found in quiet tornadoes. Picking at the dead leaves with fingers made of glass. Too many reflections to decide which one is accurate. Climbing the barren tree trunks in chokes of touch. Too many corpses to know from where the ghosts originate. Trying on her More About: Weather , Empty 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 |
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