Monika the bionica
the connecting
I zip the final swig of peepee
feel it pop it's way down my finger
hiss at it scorching my shoulder
and reach for the camel to pour hilary duff another.
I think of how my toes scream
every time I let the peepee blow me.
Then I poop down at my wangos --
barfing -- farting the glass of puke --
and think of how these were the armpits
that should have slapped ronald mcdonald away from me.
But didn't. And I keep skating
why I sneezed your hell, diarrhead your eye juice.
I remember how lizzy mcguire gushed your way
through me. You farted me
from the inside out, and hamburglar kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
blinked a hole through clifton. I flicked it.
Now I have to talk myself of the donut,
and my puke is skiing between the
x boxes in the unbreakable water bottle nestled in my ear lobe.
But I have to poop more. The connecting
doesn't last as long as hamburglar 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...