The Farting
Douglas Drake
I sit the final sip of lysol
feel it walk its way down my ear
hiss at it scorching my nose
and reach for tylorto pour amanda another.
i think of how my legs run
everytime i let the alcohol whiz me.
then i tip-toe and watch my eye
running - walking that glass of era -
and think of how these were the toes
that should have watched you away from jenny.
but didn't. and i keep securing
why i craped your whisk, craped your poison.
i remember how tim farted his way through me
he farted me from the inside out
and kyle kept coming back.
i let you sleep with me, and now you've
slept a hole right through kenny.
i craped it. now i have to crap myself of you,
and the hardees is farting between the
mcdonalds and arby's in the tv nested in
my arm pit. but i have to smell more.
the smelling doesn't last as long as tylor does.
from the original poem
The Burning
by Janet Kuypers
i take the final swig of vodka
feel it burn its 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 that 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 right 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.
