Drunk Poet


I wanted to drink you a poem, but I’ve had too much to write

I can’t remember the song to the words, and sure as hell can’t rhyme

I’m losing your grasp on reality, as if I had any grip-to begin…

Besides, the Lord says being drunk is a sin, but he’ll just have to forgive

and forget…cuz I’m a crazy poet.

View original post


Locked up extreme inside, locked out he said good-bye. Gather your clothes. I'll give you time I suppose. He looks at her- hate fills his eyes. Why though? She cries. A menacing stare, a final glare. You're not good enough for me, his heart screams. Out the door she carries her things. Never to return … Continue reading Smashed!


Whatever is a girl to think when groping and fondling these words...a  private act that keeps me from being desperately bored. But, you're looking at my hands-the perverts, playing like I'm a poet. They search out what can't be seen and hide out in the trees, just waiting calmly for an opportunity-then, sees it and … Continue reading Desperate