grieving
over a past
that cannot be grasped
through the haze
of booze and pills
worse yet, mental atrophy
closed in by dreams
leaving me exhausted,
sweating, and moaning
pitiful aching sobs
what have you done now?
grieving for the passed
never out of mind
and just barely out of reach
yet reaching brings an end
for what i'm not ready
can i hold you in this world?
oh, i would try
or shall i just hold you
give you that comfort
a small and cold comfort
which kills me
yet it is you
that is gone
/cmcc
not the real mccoy, it's faux!
sure it's out of focus, so am i
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Moving. Truly.
ReplyDeleteHoly cow, woman! How did I not get that you'd started a blog? Almost trashed your e-mail thinking it was something else. Please keep in mind that I am a colossal dork and bear of very little brain.
ReplyDeleteBy the way, I posted another Nick Asshat episode.
I see Chez is your first comment -- excellent! But I'm disappointed that it wasn't me. Oh well, sloppy seconds.
Big fat sloppy loves,
Swams
An absolutely beautiful poem.. I look forward to stalking your blog outside of MySpace,
ReplyDelete- post often.
Your comment-to-posts ratio is PHENOMENAL, by the way.
ReplyDeleteAre you sure you're not a
small
medium
at large?