After Party

EvilToasterElfEvilToasterElf Posts: 1,119
edited March 2004 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
After Party

In rare moments
smell is the potent sense
eyes squeeze in the
pungent mixture of beer and piss and vomit
some sex mixes into that river of odor
Liquid chunks litter grass green carpets
that fade to mildew
neither sense can truly discern the

music that rattles from ceilings and walls and floors
The girl, maybe a blond
has either left or
was never there

Sirens trickle into my vision
slow as the dripping faucet into my dreams
someone sober would deal with it

I’m not in my room,
I don’t know who’s room this is
or if someone else was hooking up in mine
or if I just fell into the first bed I found
was it

funnels or a kegstand
tonight
Socrates chose hemlock
in this tangled ball of muted input
only one choice remains
the solid white pillow and trails
of light that bounce across dark chambers
on the back of my eyelids
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • tenaciousAtenaciousA Posts: 604
    Originally posted by EvilToasterElf

    The girl, maybe a blond
    has either left or
    was never there


    Socrates chose hemlock


    the blonde chose grace :)


    nice, toaster :)
    ~all is full of love~
  • Ugh! Makes me think that tomorrow, someone's going to be praying to the porcelin gods! :D

    I liked it!
    Forget your perfect offering, there is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen
  • BuruBuru Posts: 8,473
    good poem
    really liked the ending:

    in this tangled ball of muted input
    only one choice remains
    the solid white pillow and trails
    of light that bounce across dark chambers
    on the back of my eyelids


    for some reason I'm reminded of Bukowski, but that is a good thing for I love him.
    y la banda de Guille... cuando toca?
  • EvilToasterElfEvilToasterElf Posts: 1,119
    Never read bukowski
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