Darcie
the verb %28ing ending%29
I verb the final swig of liquid
feel it verb it's way down my body part
hiss at it scorching my body part
and reach for the noun to pour person another.
I think of how my body parts scream
every time I let the liquid verb me.
Then I down at my body parts --
verb %28ing ending%29 -- verb %28ing ending%29 the glass of liquid --
and think of how these were the body parts
that should have verb %28ed ending%29 person away from me.
But didn't. And I keep verb %28ing ending%29
why I verb %28past tense%29 your hell, verb %28past tense%29 your .
I remember how your way
through me. You me
from the inside out, and kept coming back.
I let you watch me, and now you've
a hole through . I it.
Now I have to talk myself of the ,
and my is between the
in the nestled in my .
But I have to more. The verb %28ing ending%29
doesn't last as long as 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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