The Mad Poet.

We use to sit in the depth of a Sacramento summer night

Drinking sips of whiskey

Straight from the bottle

Until each drip was gone

Winding together in our madness until the sun

Turns both of our white skin tan.

Drunken lovers with nothing holding us together but the words and drugs

And each sip we took together

Filled pages in our empty notebooks.

Making memories neither of us remember in the

Afternoon when then potion wore off

He was mine for a moment

Until the drug took him back

Forgetting our closeness and the secrets we shared.

He turned on me

Like a undomesticated caged feline

I suppose I disappointed him with my rigid spine

And un-sympathizing soul for his blackened addiction

My third eye see’s deep into the foamy tunnels of his deranged thoughts

Saw his plans for me-  He kept them in the trunk of his Honda

Revolver-six bullets each with my name written in invisible ink

I got away with my life-

But he had the last to say

With his foolish words- He trailed behind me

Spouting lines like vomit

I ignored the fond emotions I stored for him

Tossed it all way 

Flushing him from my life

Looking down into the bowl

I watched him spin farther and farther

Down

And finally the mad poet was gone

Reviews

[Chris]

THAT has the taste and feel of real...
had to hurt like hell.

[zainul]

A great truth presented in a lucid work.
Great write.
Congratulations!!!

[Kimberly S]

and your right.. he had no plans for himself.. therefor f*****g yur life. sad.. but atleast its over

[Joshua Smit]

wow, really well written. i struggle to read stuff online most of the time, but i found your poem incredibly easy (it just flowed that well). and the important message behind it makes it a true work of art.

But sadly for people like that, it's never really that easy. There always seems to be something left behind in the heart of the abused

[Dream Weaver]

An incredible slice of wisdom here,
so perfect and robustly written.
I enjoyed this very much, great ink!