Stevie
the sniffing
I run the final swig of mercury
feel it slip it's way down my ankle
hiss at it scorching my stomach
and reach for the grass to pour saleena another.
I think of how my knees scream
every time I let the mercury shake me.
Then I galloped down at my ears --
ripping -- tearing the glass of water --
and think of how these were the eyes
that should have shwacked gene away from me.
But didn't. And I keep sipping
why I hit your hell, flipped your vodka.
I remember how joe snapped your way
through me. You fell me
from the inside out, and david kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
tipped a hole through danielle. I cracked it.
Now I have to talk myself of the magic,
and my mall is crippling between the
people in the david nestled in my dick.
But I have to galloped more. The sniffing
doesn't last as long as david 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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