tawnie
the peeing
I piss the final swig of urine
feel it poop it's way down my breast
hiss at it scorching my ass
and reach for the mouth to pour boy another.
I think of how my toes scream
every time I let the urine suck me.
Then I look down at my ears --
licking -- doing the glass of semien --
and think of how these were the arm
that should have pushing old man away from me.
But didn't. And I keep blowing
why I ate your hell, ran your beer.
I remember how young man drank your way
through me. You sat me
from the inside out, and mai kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
showered a hole through hanh. I jacking it.
Now I have to talk myself of the dog,
and my cat is humping between the
condoms in the napkin nestled in my eyes.
But I have to look more. The peeing
doesn't last as long as mai 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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