Tagged: booze

The Drought of Rimbaud

So I’m an alcoholic
I started and I’d be insane to stop
For once in my life
I’ll finish what I started
There will be an end. A point.
I’ll drink myself straight into the grave

And the children in grown torso
Grown body
Will speak of how they tried to save a lost soul
But that soul was nowhere to be found

Well I’m here and I know
Just as they must somewhere,
Beneath the layers of rotting termite wood
That they aren’t here with me.

That they couldn’t give a shit’
If they were paid
But that’s okay.

I can’t depend on masturbating assholes
Torn like carved turkey

I have to be alone
It’s the only way

I have to strip back the skin
And the love
And find the reality within

The reality of self-loathing and to give up eagerly
On everything I’ve ever “loved”
The truth being I never loved it
I never loved you
I never loved.

I just waited for you to stop talking
So I could get back to the written word
And write my own little truths
And my own little shit piles.

It doesn’t matter how much I write
How many wrongs I right;
It’ll never be enough
I’ll never achieve the impossible
Impossible only to me.

Only I know the passage of inadequacy
I gave up the best
So I could learn what it means to suffer

I gave up love and happiness
So I could scratch shitty poems into human flesh
Maybe eventually flesh other than my own
But I doubt it.


Parasitic Thoughts

I’ll be the man
At the dive down the street
The one your wife wouldn’t walk into
If you paid her.
The one you go to
When you want her to think
You have overtime
The tavern
Armed with more weaponry
Than the American military

Sitting lost in a memory
Of the way that things used to be
The way the sun could shine without
Smog or the blood in the sky from
Waste and carbon monoxide
Before the pets we play with
And love as a child
Are skinned and cooked
To keep us alive

Lost in the cloud
That protected us and fathered
From the blade
At the end of that firing
Oak rifle