we whisper. counting our words between the last touch and the next.

our voices expedite this flesh.

time fumbles with our stray encounters. the empty cages of our choices remain soiled.

tomorrow tastes like bubble gum and piss. we're only predators under the most foul of circumstances.

our fists full of candy and blood. we feed the monsters that wear our skin.

time takes our wagers. the virulent speculations of tamed animals.

life paints the edges. in colors we can barely see.

we run. chasing a long expired freedom.

tangled kites twisting in the wind. 

frozen mirrors turn our own faces into strangers.

we tear at the shadows. convinced we can save the dead.

quietly the years consume us. until only skeletons remain.

we search for new skins. cold and vulnerable.

we sneak inside the closest one that fits.

just a quick taste. and then.

we'll move on to the next.


quietly we teach the dark our names.

open graves become familiar beds.

we chew on the grief. nourished by our shame.

we bite down on the sinew. all that's left of our catastrophe.

just a little taste. and then.

a lifetime of wondering

if we'll ever know that feeling again. 


Filed under: December 2024  Sad Poetry

softly the zipper's teeth chew on our edges.

our remaining pieces stumble over each other.

we'd been wading so long in the flood that we hardly noticed ourselves drowning. 

hands pretend to hold. eyes feign to see.

time undoes its pants and waits for that eager grin.

knowing we're quite content with our shame. 

the world remains a pinhole through which we continue breathe.

our words quickly forget. but skin has a very long memory.

spiders simmering under the stroke of their webs. 

we'd always let the distance measure us.

because close was something we had always wanted.

that we could never be. 

alcoholicpoet.com

miles she says are the least of the distance between us. 

no fortunate corners nor humble back doors. to offer an escape. 

time limps on fractured bones. using us as its crutches. 

louder still becomes the silence. ragged stitches sewn into crumbling costumes. 

she used to wear the distance in all its arrogant resolve. 

now all those paths are grey. packed up neatly and left to sour. 

she fiddles with the math. all the tender humilities that flesh manipulates. 

she used to tease the thieves. letting them think they could take what was hers. 


Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poetry

alcoholicpoet.com

 the villain makes his entrance in the spaces we've neglected. the trees clench their fists. distraught at the apathy of the forest. 

we slip into the void. sour candy melting into our lips . distant voices shout at the colors that have bled into our wounds. 

the little doll has her stones sharpened. as the fairy tale comes to its apex. 

the breath of the wolf hot on the back of her neck. 

breadcrumbs fall like tears as she stumbles over her  beaten path. 

all the witches stoke their cauldrons. her journey corrupted by stolen skin. 

she looks the wolf in the eyes. prepared to be eaten. 

she asks the wolf how big his teeth are. 

and he just grins. 

she smiles back. daring  him to swallow. 

knowing that he'll choke on her. 


Filed under: Sad Poems December 2024

alcoholicpoet.com

the world arrived in a dizzying array of scattered puzzle pieces. 

a swamp of soft flesh to swallow us. 

all their voices part of the broken picture that our bodies had yet to solve. 

we never asked permission. we just took what we needed. 

running down the mountain. chased by all those boulders. 

stunned by how quickly they overtook us. 

it was never time that we needed to charm. the years were more than patient. 

it wasn't our loyalty that betrayed us. it spent every penny so carefully. 

it's our words that have always been the most dangerous. 


Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poetry

alcoholicpoet.com

A sad poem about unexpected change. As if there is any other kind. 


yesterday i was only a number. now her words have been added to the puzzle.

her skin is a riddle that still remains to be solved.

the sharp corners give the devil egress. a single flame that haunts a lengthy corridor.

the light counts its footsteps as it approaches the door.

possessed of the enviable valor of the naive.

a thief itself, dwarfed by reason.

the light touches the window. to feel what it cannot see.

the chalky grins of its prisoners. the cotton eyes of their empty rooms.

the light holds its breath. 

violating her carefully curated darkness.

as it surreptitiously enters. 

undeterred. even knowing that,

once inside, there is no exit.


Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poetry

alcoholicpoet.com

Some sad poetry needs no explanation.


the puzzle solves us.

in shallow cuts that take too long to scab.

the numbers measure us.

in the bits of skin that never learn.


the answers sicken us.

more so with each question that we ask.


we count out loud.

every breath a test to see if someone still listens.


the edge calls our name.

in stilted devotions.


we can negotiate the distance,

but gravity always wins.



Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poetry

alcoholicpoet.com

A little bit of sad poetry about the combustion of choices. 


she idles. treading in the throat of time. waiting to drown. 

she listens. to the currents as they devour the islands that still remain. 

the moment swallows hard. and she wonders will it choke on her. 

but the truth is, she knows she's too small. 

their choices explode. a cacophony of touch. 

she wonders. whether the monster under her bed will find its way between her sheets. 

names are for the privileged. choices are for the fortunate. 

and she is neither of those things. 

she measures the distance between them.

 by the fire under her skin.


Filed under: Sad Poems December 2024

alcoholicpoet.com

a little bit of sad poetry about continuity. 


the end is a lazy beast. all hollow claws and torn tickets.

the show is always running. thumping stages full of voiceless actors.

the pauses simmer between our words. a vicious punctuation.

we idle too long and the shadows move to overtake  us.

every breath a chasm. the venom is sweet as it learns our names.

the lie is gentle as it unzips her dress. 

as the music quiets, time knocks on the doors that we've locked. 

patiently counting  the voices trapped behind them.


Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poems

alcholicpoet.com

a little bit of  sad poetry about how our frailties make us strong.


dragonflies and caterpillars tell their tales.

delicate wings scrape the wind. shattered cocoons tease the sun.

loose skin falls away as we move to touch.

the bones underneath more broken than we expected.

words turn to clay. much too soft to hold.

we play gravity's infectious games.

flying and falling again and again.

never knowing if we've won.

our voices fade to whispers. our bodies become ghosts.

life is an icicle. time is an oven.


Filed under: December 2024 Sad Poetry