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david badgerow Oct 2011
I've suffered in the throes
of writer's block for seven sordid days
I've spent the wordless week wandering in a silent daze
I tried to pick the lock to lift the fog and haze
But the words were stacked against me backed into their dark caves
They never left me entirely they were cold and huddled together
in the sticky-damp attic of my mind mumbling themselves chanting in time
I thought the ***** would loosen their fearful grip on reality
but the words proved to be a stubborn people
singing We Shall Overcome while hovering
behind my whiskey-drenched eyes
I tried jumping up and down up and down
nightly to rattle one word loose
Just a lonely word a sick child of a word
the one with the least hand strength and the most fierce imagination
but even this word proved thick with endurance
vitality perserverance and clung tightly to his handholds
Any attempt to moisten my palate with the
smooth syrupy texture of a word
was met with bitter reluctance by my parasitic tongue
as if a mountain man were holding a red-hot iron
inches away from my bread hole
There they clung with surpirising tenacity
on the steep cliffs of my inner skull
Some of them proved hungry to be spoken
but the sacred few I managed to twist into an
audible figurine balloon were useless and elastic
Words like **** and **** were flowing like ichorous
from the aperture in the front of my face
They dangled and then I broke free.
david badgerow Oct 2011
it's not the burning alive that's really that bad,
it's that it lasts forever
after a while you get used to the pain
if your heart and your mind work together

it's not the water in your lungs that's really that bad,
if your mind is already sick with fever
cool chlorinated water feels refreshing
and you eventually forget to reach for the drain lever

it's not the bloodletting that's really that bad,
I feel lighter on my feet already
a foggy film shades my eyes
for my final judgement I am dressed and ready.
david badgerow Oct 2011
Alright, *****, here-- I wrote you a sonnet.
Your eyes can see & you can read, what do you mean, 'what's on it?'
Oh that ring there? (cough) That's just the place where I set my whiskey glass down to cool off.
Please let me explain, as I was drowning my pain, I sort of let go of some of my mucus.
Don't sit there upon your high chair and beg & plead 'how could you do this?'
Yes it does smell salty like the sea.
I'm glad you mentioned that, you see
I used my tears to wipe up the blood--yes, that blood there--no, its not my blood.
I swear it's not what you think, it was the pen,
He started spitting up ink.
It's wrinkled, I know, my fists were clenched while writing it.
Oh and this thing here? (cough)
That's just my left thumbnail, I was unconsciously biting it,
it must have fallen off.
david badgerow Oct 2011
i am useless.
truth is, i knew this.
truth is, i blew this.

truth is, i'm stupid.

i am a waste.
let me forget how she tastes.
let me wake up in
a strange & awful place.

let me eat paste.

i am neglect.
do not treat me with respect.
just ignore me, perfect.

i am regret
david badgerow Sep 2011
It ended in abrubt victory like a baby being born
But the doctors all looked sick to me, somehow this wasn't the norm

Actually I'm not in a hospital
Not witnessing the miracle of life
I just woke up
and am 48 years old with
the realization that someone's
******* my wife.

There you have it, my love
She sighs, shining white like
a dove discovered dead
On your grandmother's doorstep.
david badgerow Sep 2011
Last night I
Buried my dreams underground.
Fleshy as a corpse
Edgy like the corners of a time capsule.
Once my cup was sloshing round,
Now it's barely half full.

This morning I
had almost forgotten what had happened
But I heard muffled sounds.
They were still alive.

It made me wonder about
What it takes to suffocate
A dream.
david badgerow Sep 2011
listen up all tube socks
draped lightly over stiff cots
rise to the knee
this is a call to arms.

cleanse yourself of nostril snot
store it in a safe spot
this is for a poor old sot
with whiskey-breath
whimpering forget-me-nots.

drop pure silver into jangling slots
while your veins rot
and your heart and brain begin to clot
ask your neighbor for a quick five-spot

spin the wheel again, sonny
this time, give it all you got

— The End —