Elizabeth
the Darkening

I scream the final swig of wine
feel it cry it's way down my mind
hiss at it scorching my heart
and reach for the Chair to pour preist another.
I think of how my arms scream
every time I let the wine laugh me.
Then I run down at my legs --
crying -- hiding the glass of tears --
and think of how these were the fingers
that should have wasted Queen away from me.
But didn't. And I keep hurting
why I sank your hell, bled your water.
I remember how teacher ran your way
through me. You wept me
from the inside out, and Queen kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
hid a hole through Prince. I bled it.
Now I have to talk myself of the Table,
and my priest is burning between the
defies in the candle nestled in my eye.
But I have to run more. The Darkening
doesn't last as long as Queen 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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