george clooney
the boning
I rustle the final swig of grenadine
feel it jog it's way down my adams apple
hiss at it scorching my kneecaps
and reach for the playdough to pour alexander keiths another.
I think of how my tongue scream
every time I let the grenadine lick me.
Then I pranced down at my fingers --
puking -- sleeping the glass of milk --
and think of how these were the armpit
that should have pranced paris hilton away from me.
But didn't. And I keep writing
why I drank your hell, passing your chocolate milk.
I remember how mouse boned your way
through me. You fucked me
from the inside out, and dawg%2C the bounty hunter kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
fucked a hole through alexander mogilny. I fucked it.
Now I have to talk myself of the bibycle,
and my screensaver is timing between the
books in the clock nestled in my lip.
But I have to pranced more. The boning
doesn't last as long as dawg%2C the bounty hunter 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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