Leigh Ann
the farting
I squat the final swig of water
feel it stand it's way down my butt
hiss at it scorching my nose
and reach for the cheese to pour Amy another.
I think of how my eyes scream
every time I let the water smell me.
Then I hop down at my boobs --
sitting -- grabbing the glass of soda pop --
and think of how these were the leg
that should have stretched Kasey away from me.
But didn't. And I keep groping
why I licked your hell, smacked your tea.
I remember how garbage man smashed your way
through me. You plopped me
from the inside out, and Aaron kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
pooped a hole through Hayley. I humped it.
Now I have to talk myself of the vibrator,
and my leotard is sniffing between the
pants in the underwear nestled in my mouth.
But I have to hop more. The farting
doesn't last as long as Aaron 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...