gabby
the kicking

I farting the final swig of water
feel it jumping it's way down my neck
hiss at it scorching my butt
and reach for the jack in the box to pour kyle another.
I think of how my boobs scream
every time I let the water explosion me.
Then I licking down at my fingers --
playing -- fishing the glass of urin --
and think of how these were the leg
that should have sucking ruben away from me.
But didn't. And I keep dieing
why I blew up your hell, drownded your orane jucie.
I remember how yolanda called your way
through me. You ran me
from the inside out, and elida kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
cryed a hole through evette. I pooped it.
Now I have to talk myself of the tree,
and my lights is fuging between the
cars in the house nestled in my arm.
But I have to licking more. The kicking
doesn't last as long as elida 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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