Poetry

ALCOHOLIC RECOLLECTIONS

A gaze at oneself
my marvel is the portion you make
Is it your lips or your eyes,
is it the way you took off

You maneuvered like an alcoholic stream
impairing my distress
Lazily-leading my eyes to dream in my head
I am but an alcohol, drunk and so boozy to its core.

Fluid bones, that’s your home
exasperated at the Earth you claim fractured
I’ve arrived from the pains of the flesh
I am the buried bone of the weight sunk in the depth of blood
Sometimes I speak to be
But how about when you fractured me

My affliction says: this is not the right way
though my recollection remembers my surrendering scorn
I hear him retort, let it be

So I lay in the pool like anything above the air
The dead lagoon of your alcohol
A recollection you used to know

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