To Wurtzel, whose pain is human and strange
-
Twenty-three pills crushed, bent double
from the grind lined up like smartly dressed soldiers
shipped off to war; they march on plastic countertops
stained saffron with coffee or backs of moleskins -
ready at a moment's notice
to rape onion sinuses
with a single dynamite charge, a deafening roar
no one else hears but you and I
they are our lovers, these enigmatic agents
always within reach, by the telephone or the rolodex
a wallflower's best friend at a book signing
unselfish while others wear thinly
as we wail, "me, me, me" in piteous need
for the next quick fix, to sleep
to eat, to speed.
----------------------------------
Sometimes it's hard not to wonder if sanity's just a tenuous balance of chemicals regulated by a little machine in the head. -
This poem looks very familiar. It was selected by Alvin for The Poetry Billboard right?
-
yuppers.
Do you know what happened to the Poetry Billboard? It's been offline for eons! -
Alvin told me he is shutting it down, but not too sure if it is for good.Originally posted by peebrain:yuppers.
Do you know what happened to the Poetry Billboard? It's been offline for eons!
I hope not.