Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Cleavage Found Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Tuesday 1/29/2008 12:12:00 AM

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 addicted. What else could I ever aspire to become. The problem is that I know it and don't care.

The trigger is that nothing kills me anymore.

I've written it. I've said it to their faces. And still I have this shotgun up my ass. Still I have this circus in my head. And everyone's afraid of the clowns.

Can you blame them?

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