alcoholicpoet.com

this poem is about the evolution of intimacy.


time comes in cuts and bruises. the stale anthropology of why. we swerve. untethered projectiles. 

the atoms tally their electrons. the random arithmetic of dubious accountants.

we turn on a fickle axis. orbiting distant and indifferent stars.

time draws its pictures. a desolate artist. a callous muse.

we bite the wind. starved for conflict.

our words slither quietly through choice's tall grass. as flesh collides. 

the geometry presses against our skin. the weight of time blurs our edges.

we touch. in stutters and stabs. all wrong answers. to a series of questions yet to be asked. 

Filed under: Sad Poetry October 2024

 this sad poem is about change.

alcoholicpoet.com

borrowed eyes search for words in the silence. stilted choices build their slender bridges. familiar villains charm our panic.

the names are mutable. the faces are lies.

tender glances challenge the void. while unpicked fruit rots on its branches. 

time slips out of its gown as the party trundles forward. a humble apocalypse. an obvious surrender.

the distance exhales. eager to breathe again.

dirty lips form their promises. the lingering deficit of impotent primates. 

the body is a merchant. it sells what it can.

touch is its profit. love is its debt. 

shaking fingers draw their lines. until everything is divided. 

chafed skin throws off its sparks. until we are overtaken by the flames.

Filed under: October 2024 Sad Poetry

alcoholicpoet.com

A sad poem about the passage of time. 

negotiate the withered thorns.
the frail geometry of lingering scabs.
absent arbiters stumble toward vacant Edens. 

the story whispers of deceit. 
thin shadows lurking in the grin of gravity. 

our masks are soft as we peel them away from our faces.
our pockets are empty as we search for the familiar. 

change chokes on the remains of our grief. 
choice cuts with a jagged blade. 

time counts our pennies as we make our wishes.
lambs in wolf's clothing.
sipping the blood. 

we lay down quietly. in truth's soiled bed. 
and pretend to believe. 

Filed under: October 2024 Sad Poetry

alcoholicpoet.com

this poem is about the humility of choice. 

the machine was quiet as we left it to idle. a slender bridge. a gaunt stick. in a contentious autonomy.

small corridors choke on the galloping distance.

the bite of tomorrow. swift and acerbic. the glory of time's slow apocalypse.

tally the dead. ignore the living.

the engine is ours to manipulate. the foul sum of consent. trust's breath on the windows. as the atoms whisper their lies.

 skin like fire. touch like pouring rain.

the box is still closed. the question still squirming inside of it. 

the answer.  a single dose of poison we've yet to taste. 

Filed under: October 2024 Poetry

created by alcoholicpoet

this poem tells the story of the frailties that make us strong. 

the temperament of intimacy is an isolated equation. thick with tears and soot.

touch is a contract. filthy with choices.

our past walks in front of us. our bodies all jagged bits of catastrophe. left behind by strangers in familiar skins.

the crux of time is in its debt to us. an eternal bargain struck between capitulation and defiance.

we tie our knots in the throat of tomorrow. grinning as it struggles to breathe.

the truth is just a sum. a broken protagonist in a tale without an ending.

we break and twist. helplessly tethered to this rotting flesh.  frantically touching each other in a perpetual series of promises almost kept. 

we are the only real gods. harvesting life from all that we've lost. 

Filed under: September 2024 Sad Poems. 

alcoholicpoet.com

the angle of trust is dependent upon the trajectory of skin.

touch stumbles through its math. distance devours the remainder.

we clutch the pieces. imagining the whole. frail predators gnawing on empty bones.

time crawls out of its skin. a charlatan in sweet smelling robes.

life presses itself against the glass. but the truth refuses to let it in.

we're only a scratch on the face of eternity. that barely bleeds.

the wolf quivers in his hunt. salivating at the thought of the kill.

but his prey is evolving. learning. his weaknesses.

his earnest claws an impotent artifact.

his once ample fangs, dulled by time. 

Filed under: September 2024 Poetry