jenni
the spending
I scream the final swig of koolaid
feel it laugh it's way down my nose
hiss at it scorching my hand
and reach for the desk to pour cesear another.
I think of how my eyes scream
every time I let the koolaid like me.
Then I played down at my lips --
crying -- loving the glass of dr. pepper --
and think of how these were the ears
that should have singed sabastine away from me.
But didn't. And I keep skipping
why I played your hell, liked your lemonade.
I remember how german walked your way
through me. You runned me
from the inside out, and jose kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
played a hole through carlos. I laughed it.
Now I have to talk myself of the park,
and my pen is running between the
rubber bands in the soccer nestled in my finger.
But I have to played more. The spending
doesn't last as long as jose 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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