anonymous alcoholic

This is who you are

A stone wall against the fall

Glued to yourself but moving with the wind

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No word is perfect

No phrase has color

It's all bland and tactless

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My tongues tied and fried

I can't breath I've died

Babe, can't you see I've lied

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Rubber is my skin as it wraps around my mouth

Choking and ripping with the stress of breath

I make holes in myself with force

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Do the comments define the poems?

If a poem is made without an audience

Was it even a poem

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So life

Crazy how life just begs the absence

At least for some

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