it's a bit cold I'm sitting by the margin of the river Fishing A bit upset There were too many fish who escaped my nets I sigh throw 'em again wait I catch one pull it out and stomp on its golden head rip it apart from the body and drink its blood ... Yeah, bullshit I'm sitting in the office night shift supervising casinos through CCTV cameras it's 05:53 and I'm ignoring work to write poems like this one and something always comes up and makes me forget my ideas The phone rings Some customer causes trouble in some casino Some other customer is suspected of cheating A bouncer falls asleep on his chair due to lack of activity The game attendant flirts with a customer There's a bill fallen on the floor and I've to determine its owner A bunch of idiots are being too loud Some other…
the cat was utterly
uninterested
and downright
bored
with him reading
mediocre poems
by her side
"You don't like this one?" he asked
"It's about nature
and birds
flying and... and... How good does
it have to be for you
to like it? I'm only ten, I haven't
lived long enough to
write poems of grief
and depravity like my father. But you
know, I'm actually aiming to become
better than him. I aim to be
a more
respected poet. What, you don't think
I'll be able to?
You think I'm just another
deluded fool? I'll show you!"
The cat stood
and stretched raising her tail
"Calm down, kid. First of all,
your daddy was no
poet. Just some drunk who spoke of
demons as he passed out
in bars. And you, you're not ten, okay?
You're just ten days
clean of meds."
"You think I should
end myself?" he asked
The cat waved a paw
at that. "Nah, just go on with the
next poem. I'll be listening
but please don't expect any
praise. It's not in my nature to
offer it, okay?"
"But... you think I'll be a great
poet one day?"
The cat closed her
eyes and offered no reply
Daydreaming as a profession 