Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
Feeling bitter again
he opens the
beer can
stares at it
stares at his
reflection in the
mirror mounted on the
wardrobe door
“Well,” he says with a
sigh. “If I’m lonely it’s
because I’m at
the top. It’s always lonely
at the top.
The winner stands
alone.”
He raises the can
at his own
reflection and
drinks
Thank you!
he found one crumpled cigarette
in his breast pocket
straightened it gently, expertly
between his palms
put it between his lips and
lit it
He was on the
roof
watching the afternoon skies
a bit drunk
He pointed at the plume of smoke
he exhaled and
said, “The trick is to stay in
the game until
you’re the only one left. It don’t matter
how good you are or
how you evolve. Just stay
in the game until you’re the last one.”
The smoke vanished
before him, raising
to the
skies
He nodded. “That’s what I’m
talking about.”
He finished the cigarette
and went back
down to the wedding
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "stay in the game"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
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He went nine years without doing it. Five of those were spent in prison so it was just normal but the other four he spent desperately trying and failing He did look fine before he got into hardcore drugs and crime Well, there was this cute drug dealer down the block from whom he kept buying only to get to see her and try to strike up a conversation He didn't care that she was pregnant He called up almost daily to meet up and buy but he wasn't too good at conversation. Had no game, as others would put it And on the other side she wasn't so good at putting the products together She constantly laced the weed with some other shit and one such shit was so bad that when he smoked it he got all horny and creative and desperate He grabbed a black permanent marker and drew a cunt across his left forearm It wasn't good enough so he cut it open with a razor and began to lick at it and finger it around the bone and eventually fuck it until he came He came about four, five times until he passed out
the music makes my lungs quake there are people all around jumping up and down shouting singing howling into each other's ears the lights blaze from above and the sides and even from the floor the immense room feels like the surface of a star and its inhabitants dance and cheer in the flames Everyone is happy everyone's ecstatic jubilant wild high frenzied having the time of their life And I am amidst them all They are talking to me Expecting replies The party goes on and on and on God... I've never felt lonelier in my life.
Daydreaming as a profession 