Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Paisley Skin Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Sunday 4/20/2008 01:08:00 AM

Coils. Detonating. The fingers of oblivion. Counting couches. Not yet sat upon. The sneeze of serendipity. A brief blowjob. By comparison. I wasn't there, but I heard about it. The end of everything. In a whimper. Drool on numb lips. Shadows of men cancelling out the moon.

Almost as if we were there once. And are choking on trying to remember.

Dying. Weak fireworks pause the skin. The world watches the liars the closest. The moment listens for what we'll never say. The journey engulfs the traveler. Now that there is no place left to go.

I could fool the bone. Convince it to heal. But why would I? When these splintere suit us so much better.

I want a different god. One who isn't so obvous.

I want that paisley skin back. It's mine. No matter who steals it. I want back that world. Where over is just the beginning.

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