coffee death humanity life


boils down to

the demons you harbor

the hours you keep

the souls of your flesh and cheap shoes

the drugs you take

and how much your piss

smells like coffee

5 replies on “poetry”

31 words… I counted. You just described my life… whether that makes my life very small or your words that good… well, I know which side of the balance I want to take on that question… prose writing is this too. Exactly this. Nailed perfectly. Only thing I would add is the wine. The searing, blistering wine occasionally topped up with scotch (I know you like bourbon, but I’m a Brit by birth).

Fantastic, Alicia.

Somehow, I knew you were British. They’re my favorite people on Earth, but I’m the 7th great granddaughter of Pocahontas, I have a natural penchant for them. As to the poem, I used the word drugs to encompass the booze. Yes, my leaning are toward bourbon, but I was born on the bourbon trail in Kentucky, not Sonoma Valley or Paris. I think it proves this: the affliction that is writing is a grand disease my friend, and I will die happily from it.

That’s awesome! yes, transplanted Brit. Have a swig of bourbon for me, I’ll have some scotch, and we’ll toast this grand disease that’s mucked us up and sent us on our way. Wouldn’t have it any other way…. and down the hatch goes another shot.

or, often as not,
the drugs you forgot
you took
or the drugs you
forgot to take
and how much your piss
doesn’t smell like beer

Loved this. “the souls of your flesh.” too many live in there, way too many.

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