WESLER
the slapping

I go the final swig of apple juice
feel it shoot it's way down my nose
hiss at it scorching my ear
and reach for the Yo momma to pour Catheline another.
I think of how my teeth scream
every time I let the apple juice run me.
Then I eat down at my pinky --
running -- hopping the glass of tea --
and think of how these were the eyeball
that should have juiced Heston away from me.
But didn't. And I keep juicing
why I punched your hell, ran your acid.
I remember how Allison hitted your way
through me. You fell me
from the inside out, and Kaitln kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
swam a hole through Jessica Simpson. I hit it.
Now I have to talk myself of the flower,
and my sheep is jumping between the
fish in the Atlanta nestled in my toe.
But I have to eat more. The slapping
doesn't last as long as Kaitln 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.

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...