#260
The world’s forgotten boy,
lost, sleeping on cool tile,
the imprints mapping his skin,
his head sore and ballooning,
he yearns to play, but all
the other children are tucked
warm and safe. The stories
he tells to entertain himself are
getting slow, getting repetitive.
He eyes adults with envy, at
their coffees and devices and company.
An improbable number of beautiful
women wander by, separated
from him by a wall of purpose,
poise, experience, and age. An age
which he’ll eventually catch up to
in this time consuming curse of an evening.
#261
Did you figure it out?
The loneliness? The eye-gouging
anger that burns and rolls within?
Should i stop all this nonsense,
halt the charade
empty all the closets
and sit on my clothes in the rain?
Are we stuck looping forever,
sad lovers, no depraved,
is this what life is for?
Wasting time until the grave?
#262
i remember fury.
And its slow, suffocating hand,
i remember being blinded
by reason, by faults now far gone.
i can’t quite hear the whispers
of good sense and sightly advice,
i’m moments from thrashing
counting breaths, you can’t rationalize
forgiveness, it just isn’t always there,
i clench my fists so tightly and
do my damnedest to not
maim, maim, maim.
#263
9 am in a worn sailor’s
bar by the port,
bitter coffees, fresh torn citrus,
salted hairlines.
Excitement fevers around
the race. Jealousy and sorrow
from departing lovers lingers.
And there she appears, a
floating goddess, barefoot,
beach hair, exposed midriff
above a loose, clumsy shawl,
her footsteps, if they ever even
touch the ground, silence each
conversation like a light switch.
She reaches for a hanging guitar,
contemplates strums- the notes
as sad as every heart that knows
she is not theirs.
#264
Furious bar maids
tired of indecision
and cheap.
Exhausted by the propositions,
cold rage at the presence
of superior beauties.
They long for something more.
Drunks dig for
happiness in glass after glass
shovel after shovel.
Joy, like a cool pint,
slowly warms to a reek,
unattended, and forgotten.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write