mee
the eating

I sing the final swig of gasoline
feel it choke it's way down my boob
hiss at it scorching my clit
and reach for the belt to pour kessey another.
I think of how my butts scream
every time I let the gasoline squeeze me.
Then I fell down at my dicks --
flapping -- swirling the glass of water --
and think of how these were the pussys
that should have sneezed kala away from me.
But didn't. And I keep crying
why I farted your hell, pooped your shirley temple.
I remember how collin laughed your way
through me. You stood me
from the inside out, and ristyn kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
slobbered a hole through liz. I barfed it.
Now I have to talk myself of the straw,
and my tv is pranced between the
rings in the printer nestled in my nose.
But I have to fell more. The eating
doesn't last as long as ristyn 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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