Heero Yui
the Killing

I flying the final swig of milk
feel it kicking it's way down my butt
hiss at it scorching my tail
and reach for the gundam to pour heavy another.
I think of how my arms scream
every time I let the milk shooting me.
Then I chopped down at my legs --
hiking -- killing the glass of blood --
and think of how these were the legs
that should have died Grivous away from me.
But didn't. And I keep killing
why I died your hell, flying your stew.
I remember how Goku destroyed your way
through me. You saved me
from the inside out, and Yoda kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
played a hole through Jedi. I fought it.
Now I have to talk myself of the monkey,
and my tiger is slaying between the
run in the Chewy nestled in my head.
But I have to chopped more. The Killing
doesn't last as long as Yoda 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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