Blue
the ending
I Ran the final swig of Your In
feel it Hobbled it's way down my Skin
hiss at it scorching my Achilles tendon
and reach for the gang to pour Phat Albert another.
I think of how my Hairs scream
every time I let the Your In sever me.
Then I jump down at my elbowties --
starting -- fishing the glass of egg yolk --
and think of how these were the eye lashes
that should have retarded Wired Al away from me.
But didn't. And I keep failing
why I Shitted your hell, Farted your diarhea.
I remember how Mario smacked your way
through me. You beated me
from the inside out, and Luigi kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
shot a hole through Al. I whipped it.
Now I have to talk myself of the nun,
and my cream is dumbening between the
spears in the Scimitar nestled in my nose.
But I have to jump more. The ending
doesn't last as long as Luigi 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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