asher
the transcending
I grip the final swig of alize
feel it swallow it's way down my collar bone
hiss at it scorching my femur
and reach for the bitch to pour dr. dre another.
I think of how my tail bone scream
every time I let the alize love me.
Then I spurt down at my eye ball --
smoking -- launching the glass of jet fuel --
and think of how these were the elbow
that should have blowing condaleeza away from me.
But didn't. And I keep legislating
why I jacked your hell, stomped your saliva.
I remember how devon the dude spent your way
through me. You dropped me
from the inside out, and grandma kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
mr. president a hole through gary busse. I exploded it.
Now I have to talk myself of the halo,
and my cell phone is intersecting between the
chills in the sandwich nestled in my choda.
But I have to spurt more. The transcending
doesn't last as long as grandma 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...