miika
the fucking
I show off the final swig of coffee
feel it take drugs it's way down my penis
hiss at it scorching my pussy
and reach for the tea cup to pour pamela another.
I think of how my fingers scream
every time I let the coffee have sex me.
Then I sit down at my legs --
hearing -- killing the glass of king water --
and think of how these were the toes
that should have liked jenna away from me.
But didn't. And I keep standing
why I took your hell, showered your poison.
I remember how sexy girl kicked your way
through me. You joined me
from the inside out, and emilia kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
wrote a hole through annika. I revealed it.
Now I have to talk myself of the string,
and my dildo is playing between the
hand made pussies in the tv nestled in my vagina.
But I have to sit more. The fucking
doesn't last as long as emilia 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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