~~~
for the anonymous mother whom I value
~~~
Devils ain't so uncommon
we all got one or two,
the unlucky ones,
let them move in
and the line tween and us
and them
damnably blurred past no return
addiction is a cumulative,
sometimes thing
in this usage
sometimes
means merely the occasional
seconds
of remorse self-disgust
tween gut busting need,
incautiously craving constant,
the pleasure of inexcusable overlooking,
permitting yourself
to be the child,
allowing oneself to be
forgetting and forgettable
in this usage
cumulative
means the pleasure of a thousand
pills, drinks, smokes,
so long ago
forgetting and forgettable,
nothing sticks and nothing stays
so that each hit, each drunk
is brand new
and
nothing
accumulates
except just tolerable enough
remorse and intolerable pain
that brings that
devil desire
who always wins the seventh race
riding a horse called
"just this once more"
and you write me:
*"I wish I could be the sweet person
I wanted so desperately to be except... I'm not...
sadly, I feel your disappointment :("*
Devils ain't so uncommon
we all got one or two,
the unlucky ones,
let them move in
so whom am I to judge,
assuage, forgive and overlook,
and never condemn
cause you do it almost
plenty enough
for yourself and
every addict on this tour bus
so I answer as follows:
*the only words that come to mind -
the children are owed*
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
~~~
for the anonymous mother whom I value
~~~
Devils ain't so uncommon
we all got one or two,
the unlucky ones,
let them move in
and the line tween and us
and them
damnably blurred past no return
addiction is a cumulative,
sometimes thing
in this usage
sometimes
means merely the occasional
seconds
of remorse self-disgust
tween gut busting need,
incautiously craving constant,
the pleasure of inexcusable overlooking,
permitting yourself
to be the child,
allowing oneself to be
forgetting and forgettable
in this usage
cumulative
means the pleasure of a thousand
pills, drinks, smokes,
so long ago
forgetting and forgettable,
nothing sticks and nothing stays
so that each hit, each drunk
is brand new
and
nothing
accumulates
except just tolerable enough
remorse and intolerable pain
that brings that
devil desire
who always wins the seventh race
riding a horse called
"just this once more"
and you write me:
*"I wish I could be the sweet person
I wanted so desperately to be except... I'm not...
sadly, I feel your disappointment :("*
Devils ain't so uncommon
we all got one or two,
the unlucky ones,
let them move in
so whom am I to judge,
assuage, forgive and overlook,
and never condemn
cause you do it almost
plenty enough
for yourself and
every addict on this tour bus
so I answer as follows:
*the only words that come to mind -
the children are owed*
thinking about you
August 14, 2015
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