Sad Poems : Alcoholic Poet: Flirting with the Paradox Sad Poetry.

Alcoholic Poet. Poetry Equals Distance Over Time.

Distance Over Time
Thursday 9/11/2008 01:07:00 AM

I can't go back from here. To change it. If I did get back and changed it there never would've been a reason to go back to in the first place.

I can't smell his distance. Like I used to through all this foul. The decay. Sad men steering their broken time machines. Time.

The way he weight it everything is too heavy.

Terminals at the back of her neck collide with lazy atoms. The slick of dead words coat her throat. Brief orgasms spoil the light. The last of her clothes submitting to the darkness.

It's over. As abruptly as it began.

Bits of sleep in the guise of man. Go to sleep. Shaky bridges tempt me to cross an ocean of skin.

Fingers like cellophane. Dimpling. Singing their cacophonous lullaby.

I don't sleep.

Eyes closed is time machine enough. Atoms smashing. Still looking for where it begins.

It's enough to go back. Make it all impossible again.

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