kayla
the smooching
I run the final swig of lemon juice
feel it massage it's way down my wenis
hiss at it scorching my ear lobe
and reach for the israel to pour ariel another.
I think of how my man boobies scream
every time I let the lemon juice spank me.
Then I love down at my cankles --
licking -- hating the glass of camel urine --
and think of how these were the arm pits
that should have drinking shannyn away from me.
But didn't. And I keep judging
why I climbed your hell, hit your h2o.
I remember how mama rosen smacked your way
through me. You farted me
from the inside out, and taylor kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
punched a hole through kyle. I bit it.
Now I have to talk myself of the kitty cat,
and my monkey is hating between the
drugs in the toronto nestled in my asshole.
But I have to love more. The smooching
doesn't last as long as taylor 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.
Problems with this page? Then deal with it...