Star Dust
the jumping

I walk the final swig of water
feel it whistle it's way down my toe
hiss at it scorching my arm
and reach for the mall to pour Moogles another.
I think of how my eyes scream
every time I let the water stretch me.
Then I talk down at my hands --
walking -- hoping the glass of tomato soup --
and think of how these were the feet
that should have watching Nathan away from me.
But didn't. And I keep sleeping
why I did your hell, moped your soya sauce.
I remember how Mom wanted your way
through me. You had me
from the inside out, and Laurie kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
did a hole through Amy. I was it.
Now I have to talk myself of the chocolate,
and my cheese is eating between the
plates in the cookie nestled in my leg.
But I have to talk more. The jumping
doesn't last as long as Laurie 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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