Garrett
the bouncing
I ran the final swig of gatorade
feel it sing it's way down my leg
hiss at it scorching my arm
and reach for the hair to pour Myles another.
I think of how my toe scream
every time I let the gatorade shoot me.
Then I sex down at my finger --
running -- shooting the glass of water --
and think of how these were the thumb
that should have jogged Kendra away from me.
But didn't. And I keep singing
why I shot your hell, moved your koolade.
I remember how Adam walked your way
through me. You moved me
from the inside out, and Todd kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
typed a hole through Dave. I Threw it.
Now I have to talk myself of the poop,
and my penis is singing between the
dogs in the cat nestled in my head.
But I have to sex more. The bouncing
doesn't last as long as Todd 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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