It throbs in my mouth tonight
like a jealousy, like a thwarted hate.
As the deep reeks beyond the window
on a saturdaynight of cold,
of hot rum and warm wine
sinking to the bottom, pitched always
above my head.
Where do you sit tonight,
in a crusty bar on the shoulder of a street
with nowhere lights and somewhere people
and anywhere drinks?
I sit here in everywhere pain,
my teeth jerked from the roots
like stubborn potatoes,
and now the bedding rings with missing,
thrusting with hurt until the walls
press their fingers on my temples,
and their toes down my throat.
Waiting, thirsting for a faraway place of grime,
for a drink thick and bitter as oil,
for a person young and lost.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
all i can say is......WOW.
your great at writing, and with adjectives. this poem is really good. im jealous of your talent!
This is amazing. I really liked this. Keep up the good work!
-Rick
It throbs in my mouth tonight
like a jealousy, like a thwarted hate.
As the deep reeks beyond the window
on a saturdaynight of cold, - space between saturday and night
of hot rum and warm wine
sinking to the bottom, pitched always
above my head.
Where do you sit tonight,
in a crusty bar on the shoulder of a street
with nowhere lights and somewhere people
and anywhere drinks?
I sit here in everywhere pain,
my teeth jerked from the roots
like stubborn potatoes, - nice similie
and now the bedding rings with missing, - why the 'with?'
thrusting with hurt until the walls
press their fingers on my temples,
and their toes down my throat.
Waiting, thirsting for a faraway place of grime,
for a drink thick and bitter as oil,
for a person young and lost.
A poem about alocohol, I presume? Quite confusing, but nevertheless pretty well written. I must admit that a lot of this poem I failed to understand. The first verse, really. Try to make what your saying a little more clear, because it seems your trying to hard to be poetic and the poem fails to be about anything.
Not that it isn't. It's an alright poem. Keep writing!