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A drunken rant about heartbreak,vomiting,and an answer to "A".
By estherbell
Why am I doing this?
I wish I knew.
I was left here with my voice gone
In echoes of past abandonments,
questions with no answers.
What I believed,
was only a nasty food poisoning.
We both overindulged in our own special needs
And while I ran through his system fast,
ending up in the gutter
without being given a second glance,
I cannot force his mash down and turn it
into a well deserved stinky turd,
So I am trying to throw him up bits by bits,
the acid the bile the alcohol
I guess ALL THAT I AM DOING NOW
IS MY FINGER PUSHED DOWN MY THROAT
to make it all faster.
And while on my knees in this dirty
but relieving mess
I still hear some precious voices
getting through to me in this hidden place
this dark corner of forgotten streets,
healing like the voice of Zooey Glass.
And all I really want to do
is stand up with a clean heart and empty stomach,
wipe my mouth,find my way home,
and write something beautiful.
Tell me brother.
Should we not learn how to
Long for
the things
we DO HAVE?
Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited.
Ask the author first.
© 2008 estherbell
Comments on "A drunken rant about heartbreak,vomiting,and an answer to "A"."
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On Saturday, July 18, 2009, surething
(51)
wrote:
You painted a truly vivid picture in this one. It was hard not to put yourserlf in the piece, and by hte time I got to "And all I really want to do is stand up with a clean heart and empty stomach, wipe my mouth,find my way home, and write something beautiful" I couldn't help but feel so empathetic and felt like I needed the cleansing too. This was truly engaging, exquisitely done.
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On Saturday, October 4, 2008, carlosjackal
(3016) wrote:
This rocked in its wretchedness. Brilliant stuff :) -Carl
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On Thursday, October 2, 2008, Alanarchy
(1200) wrote:
Please upgrade soon. You need to stick around. Dig it.
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On Wednesday, October 1, 2008, Aleas
(171) wrote:
There's something to be said about this despondent self torture. Someone once told me we only escape the fire to run back to the ladder. A vicious cycle that we run so often that making any other decision is just too difficult to handle, too much of a change, even if that change is for the better, because when we make that change, that's when we truly realize we are alone. Without what lost physically, and now, gone emotionally. Where do we go next? I hope you make it to your beautiful poem someday.
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