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david badgerow Jun 2013
when we were just kids living in Nebraska
running through cornstalks holding hands
where the sun died crazy deaths over the mountains
you were my neighbor
and the bank took our land

i would've never imagined
you living in a whiskey barrel
offering ******* and squawking squirts
giving them away for free
to hideous former cowboys
substituting laughter for anger

intead,
a moment like this:
finding you alone on the banks
of a dull river
shivering,
swinging from a branch
david badgerow Jun 2013
i want to kiss you underwater
in an aquarium
while strangers admire us
from their captivity

i want you to be the only thing
keeping me alive

i want to taste your stale
exhalation of whisky breath
and you
can have all my spent cigarettes

i want to drown
with you grasping at my abdomen
digging into my chest cavity

i want to give up
all my oxygen and watch you
ascend into refracting light
david badgerow May 2013
the morning that you left
i bought a black felt pen
and almost drew your face
in the mirror

the morning that you left
i bought a flower
and thought about watering it

the morning that you left
i went for a walk and
caught a cactus
in my foot
david badgerow May 2013
Jack be nimble
Jack be stiff
Jack Daniel's please ****
Taylor Swift.
just a quick one to get the day started.
david badgerow May 2013
on nights like this it's
old man Sanders across the hall
struggling with his sterility
and raising his wife's ******* son in silence
to be a man who will one day
manipulate a woman's emotions
in a train station at 4 a.m.

it's too early to be this drunk
yet i am
and
he is too
i can hear him shouting at
himself, his wife, and his half breed redheaded son
at the dinner table,
over something like Blondie in the background
and something about baseball in the morning.
david badgerow May 2013
i don't usually rhyme much
but my thoughts are coming quicker
i'm lifting into the sky right now
drunk on a curious liquor

i recall a scene in a bar last night
one involving a french tickler
i'm seeing her much more clearly now
my memory no longer flickers
i offered to take her eyes home with me
and her body didn't bicker
i took her to a street in pound town
and oh god, did she take me with her

at the top of her lungs, she called my name
sometimes she called me mister
but alas, it's the next morning now
and i think i'll have to ditch her

98 bottles of jack on the wall
my stomach is getting sicker
my mind is sharp like a noodle
my tongue is getting slicker

wish you could see me right now, mom
*******, i'll take a picture
david badgerow May 2013
while the young kids
burn their lips on
unfiltered cigarettes
and the poets
are distracted,
i'm kneeling in an alley
flushed with desire
clutching your number on a napkin.

while the children
and the saints
are crying in dysentery
behind guerrilla masks and guns
i'm imagining the flesh of your stomach
folded over the length of my thigh
and the roar of a volcano
in your heart.
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