MAX
the POOPIN
I PICKING NOSE the final swig of PEE
feel it EATING BOOGERS it's way down my BUTT
hiss at it scorching my BUTT
and reach for the PEE to pour ME another.
I think of how my PEE BUTT scream
every time I let the PEE PEEING me.
Then I PEEEING down at my BUTT --
PEEING -- PEEING the glass of PEE ORANGE JUICE --
and think of how these were the WEWNER
that should have VIDEO GAMES MAGGIE away from me.
But didn't. And I keep POOPIN IN THE HOUSE
why I POOPS your hell, MAKA ME your NUMBER 5.
I remember how MAX RUNS your way
through me. You MAKA ME IN THE WORLD me
from the inside out, and ME kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
DOING a hole through MAGGIE. I DOE MAE it.
Now I have to talk myself of the PEE AN POOPING,
and my PEEPOO is POOPING between the
POOOOOOOOOOOPS in the POOP nestled in my WENER.
But I have to PEEEING more. The POOPIN
doesn't last as long as ME 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.
Problems with this page? Then deal with it...