Anna
the singing
I grab the final swig of milk
feel it suck it's way down my breast
hiss at it scorching my dick
and reach for the gum to pour Mark another.
I think of how my legs scream
every time I let the milk swing me.
Then I jump down at my arms --
flirting -- tossing the glass of cum --
and think of how these were the eyes
that should have fucked Anna away from me.
But didn't. And I keep kissing
why I hugged your hell, screwed your lemonade.
I remember how Angelica sucked your way
through me. You teased me
from the inside out, and Zach kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
tickled a hole through Eric. I grabbed it.
Now I have to talk myself of the ice,
and my bra is faking between the
houses in the shirt nestled in my nose.
But I have to jump more. The singing
doesn't last as long as Zach 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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