Key Maker
the Beating
I jump the final swig of Urine
feel it push it's way down my Leg
hiss at it scorching my hair
and reach for the Tree to pour dan another.
I think of how my Eyes scream
every time I let the Urine fall me.
Then I run down at my hands --
chopping -- crapping the glass of koolaide --
and think of how these were the feet
that should have kicked BOBoo away from me.
But didn't. And I keep eating
why I killed your hell, ate your water.
I remember how cody walked your way
through me. You ran me
from the inside out, and lee kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
jumped a hole through matt. I abducted it.
Now I have to talk myself of the shotgun,
and my monkeys is kicking between the
moose in the electricity nestled in my nose.
But I have to run more. The Beating
doesn't last as long as lee do(es).
---
Original poem:
the burning
(written June 8, 1989)
I take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn it's way down my throat
hiss at it scorching my tongue
and reach for the bottle to pour myself another.
I think of how my tonsils scream
every time I let the alcohol rape me.
Then I look down at my hands --
shaking -- holding the glass of poison --
and think of how these were the hands
that should have pushed you away from me.
But didn't. And I keep wondering
why I took your hell, took your poison.
I remember how you burned your way
through me. You corrupted me
from the inside out, and I kept coming back.
I let you infect me, and now you've
burned a hole through me. I hated it.
Now I have to rid myself of you,
and my escape is flowing between the
ice cubes in the glass nestled in my palm.
But I have to drink more. The burning
doesn't last as long as you do.
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