Hussein
the standing
I trip the final swig of beer
feel it fight it's way down my niple
hiss at it scorching my teeth
and reach for the Paris to pour 50cent another.
I think of how my arm scream
every time I let the beer play me.
Then I jump down at my leg --
farting -- looking the glass of kool aid --
and think of how these were the mouth
that should have drinking carpenter away from me.
But didn't. And I keep eating
why I ran your hell, smelling your juice.
I remember how Ahmed laughed your way
through me. You walked me
from the inside out, and Lil John kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
pooped a hole through G-Unit. I moon walking it.
Now I have to talk myself of the table,
and my Cave is swimming between the
blue in the cheetah nestled in my nose.
But I have to jump more. The standing
doesn't last as long as Lil John 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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