he rarely goes out
in the summer
mainly just sits
inside
in his shorts
and drinks beer all
day and types
endless words on
a mechanical keyboard
it's not even attached to
anything
not connected
there's nothing to
connect it to
he's got no computer
and no
electronic devices in
the whole house
The keyboard he found
in the dumpster
one day while taking
out the trash
mostly crumpled
beer cans
On that day he was
approached by some homeless
dude
who began calling him stupid
out of nowhere
"Why you do this, man?"
"Do what?" he asked, ready
to throw punches
"The goddamned cans! Why you
throw 'em like this?
Why did you crush 'em?
Now they're worthless!"
The homeless dude was
trying to tell him
that the cans can be
recycled for money
but he would not
understand
He was too much of a wild
beast
too antisocial
he lived among people
but not with them
and would hate them
for no reason
Back inside his
concrete cave
he would imagine
himself loved
and appreciated
by the masses
and would write
songs and
odes for them
all he needed in life
was that
and alcohol
and sure
he thinks he's very unique
in this
but here's where
he's wrong
No matter though
he'll never know
Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "he’s wrong, but he’ll never know"!
Check it out HERE!
Thank you!
Daydreaming as a profession 