HarthPoetry

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Bitch

She’s my bitch

my honor

my mother fucker

 

why am I forced to lover her

i don’t even know her

Who she is or where she came from

i don’t know her true history

As I become the alcoholic I’ve always dreamed of becoming

Get me my scotch glass

 

That bitch

That fucker

Why do you need it

You’ll just be in pain anyway

And you’ll just eat the sand from which she grows

 

No please or sorry or children’s disease

No ammunition of romantic love for me

No words of wisdom

Or thank you for my art

Fuck you

go to Hell

see you on the other side of God

Like me now?

 

She didn’t whisper in my ear

didn’t even hold my hand at the shot-put zoo

didn’t even envelope a thought

I love you – the same.

 

She followed me up to the sky

Slowly I dripped a delivery

One time quicker than last

Nothing left, Nothing to do

 

She’s my bitch

a conquer

an underdeveloped nightmare

 

A picture perfect nothingness

A beauty for results

A bad ass

A smooth-over turn table

A crybaby

A silent asshole

She was my dick

My hole

My other

A dust

A tear

A bitten lip

A rose

Now

I can die

In peace

Leave me alone.

 

 

© 2000 David Greg Harth

00.05.26.13:23:18 @ PH17OBNC