PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Black cold thirsty and wet
I borrow a word from Morrison’s set
whiskey, then it tricks me
I drink up.
My own thoughts blocking thinking
“I’m a shade towards obliteration
I feel it coming, no more waiting”.
I have a few more to even the score
guaranteed a big fat pour.
Roll with this sickness
like federal quickness
when ambers release the town
feel that of a hostage in a torture chamber
a chainsaw I have found.
Comprise plan A of escape
the anticipation, sweating bullets, and hesitation.
I puke for hours as I unload
the feedings from before.
This all started on a sunny day
when she did not love me any more.