alaysha
the sweating

I looked the final swig of koolaid
feel it touched it's way down my knee
hiss at it scorching my elbo
and reach for the belly button to pour ms. gross another.
I think of how my leg scream
every time I let the koolaid stop me.
Then I hop down at my foot --
stopping -- running the glass of milk --
and think of how these were the hand
that should have walking victoria away from me.
But didn't. And I keep falling
why I jumped your hell, screamed your water.
I remember how my mom climbed your way
through me. You scooped me
from the inside out, and genesis kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
dropped a hole through tommy. I fell it.
Now I have to talk myself of the fork,
and my box is flipping between the
did in the dallastown nestled in my arm.
But I have to hop more. The sweating
doesn't last as long as genesis 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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