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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Desires and vices abound.

Submitted: February 05, 2014

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Submitted: February 05, 2014



I'm full to the brim, with that lonely again.
Whiskey genie trades wishes for all of my sins.
I've all but forgotten where I set the mark,
And I only will seek you out after the dark.

The rot of the city, still stinging my nose.
Sow seeds in the gutter to see what it grows.
Worry plucks branches from family trees,
We bless all the infants and throw them to sea.

Lonesome takes root in my ivory bones,
my heart-deals are calling in all of their loans.
How great the depression is weighing on me,
They're selling my penance, salvation's not free.

To get by, I put up with worry and strife,
evicted heart's fire, and slept with his wife.
Her secrets she told me, I'll take to my grave,
That some of us truly aren't meant to be saved.

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