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dear friend, my insides are drunken

dear friend,
as it seems to be the way things go
      hope sat in the back corner of a bar
      silently downing a bottle of vodka.
       and my courage could be found
      precariously tipping off a barstool
                        drowning in alcoholic wisdom.
               morality forgot itself
          left lying on the floor of a bathroom
                    none too clean.
            while surrender danced on tables
               waving it's white frilly dress
           fear was left writhing on the floor
            desperate to dislocate from the
                       last disaster.
        this death, death just dusted off another glass
               and pushed it my way.
                   and as it tends to go
        it took love, two pumps short of a beat
              to regain conciousness
     just long enough to swallow a bottle of pills
         chased down with something
             a little too potent.
          i used to wonder why things fell apart
        but how much more obvious could it get
             my insides are lost in a bar scene
                   too drunk to care
             that im shaking in tremors.
               perhaps this is mental
(other two random poems)
there used to be a reason
tuck me into bed
and hold me down with bindings
of words you've said
that stop me from retrieving knives
and broken razors from the box
i fill with tears.
i still find bloody rags stashed away
from a time when i couldnt
use my words
and i like to keep them altogether
because my words still mean nothing
but im trying to let yours
mean life.
deaf ears make words,
difficult to hold meaning.
and its been so many long days
since difficult meanings
were made into words.
if i were to build a castle
of sand and seaweed
could you read the message
imprinted across spires?
some days i felt like i was
pushing you from the path
of too many buses.
but now i miss making leaps for you
and i could make more.
but they would mean nothing
to a deaf man.

10 Apr 09

Rated 10 (9) by 1 users.
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comments anyone?
 — silentspring


maybe get rid of lines 16-17.
i find line 15 to be a strange way
of showing a schism but let it hang
in there...makes me see it as a
string of little deaths or the scars
on your wrist or stitches.

nice heavy thing making meaning.
: )
 — fractalcore

hate it. like always.
 — unknown

Unkown #1 your a douche.
 — unknown

its okay unknown#1 if you dont like it you needn't read it. or at least please keep the comments helpful if you want to insult it. if anyone would please critique it i'd be really grateful
 — silentspring

added a new part to the top. its a whole new poem. anyone care to comment and assist?
 — silentspring

 — silentspring