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September 25, 2023


By Rp Verlaine


Sometimes the skies turn
orange wondering where
to welcome the falling sun.

And on a seven day drunk
you lose track
of what day it is.

Dialing numbers
but no woman will come
once they hear desperation.

And sometimes bars
become the prison
you thought had no bars.

Watching T.V.
Which kills more time
than every prison pardon
ever signed.

Turning it off
after finishing the 2nd
fifth of Johnny Walker.

Then going to bed
one eye on the clock
to watch numbers change.

Hoping to fall asleep
her side of the bed empty
her absence -- immense.

As faint nuances
of the summer
make it clear ...

only indiscriminate
mosquitoes want
your flesh.

Article © Rp Verlaine. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-03-09
Image(s) are public domain.
1 Reader Comments
04:39:07 PM
Wow.Sharp, cutting imagery that leads the reader into a well of despair. Nicely edited so that there is not a wasted word.
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