in a damaged
to keep this
i’m so tired
to make up
for the words
i fucking lost
even if i wrote
a million books
it won’t replace
for what it cost.
was just another
excuse for me
to attempt to fly
and if that
doesn’t work, then
i won’t lose
anything when i die.
I would sacrifice anything come what might
For the sake of havin’ you near
In spite of the warning voice that comes in the night
And repeats—how it yells in my ear…
Sweet coffee steam and cigarette smoke curling, interlacing in intricate patterns, at her soft delight
As her puckered lush ruby lips once talked optimistically of the taut horizon of New York skylines
Her caramel eyes glazed dreamily as she got caught in the monochrome noir of stormy LA nights
Her cascading lemon blonde hair like fallen hay as she huddled under the soggy newspaper’s smudged bylines
Living life in a suffocating office cubicle, rented apartment in the shady parts of lower downtown
Wearing restricting monochromatic suits and staring sullenly at paperworks with a frown
Bumping against hard brown briefcases and slipping her tall stilettos on fallen trilby hats
A devil in the city of angels, living life in a labyrinthine maze, no way out, with her fellow windup rats
Is it such a big crime, she pondered blearily, to wish and vie for something just a little more?
Than dingy old diners, dusty sweltering pavements, and hunting inside thrifty dark dime stores?
Sitting in a vinyl booth, broken neon “OPEN” sign flicking; greasy barkeep and regulars tactlessly staring
Fellow jaded sunken eyes probing her petite form, pervading, conspiring, rudely judging
Her five AM weeknights are spent hiding, clutching a bottle of Old Fitzgerald in the dirty back alleyways
Gazing with bloodshot eyes at the midnight skies melancholically, with filthy grey smog they were laced
The smug smiling moon was missing, the stars flickered back farewells, shimmering faintly like her dim hope
And like her monotonous arid soul, they also found themselves lost in the hazy chokes of this dismal city’s Cimmerian smoke.
Don’t you know, little fool, you never can win?
Use your mentality, wake up to reality…
Tapping and clacking, the slack keyboard resounds
Symphonies of yawning and creaky bones passed around
Rustling shambolic papers and the phone bellows a hearty ring
On the other side of the twisted cord, impatient voices sting
In the dead of the night, and work yet to be done right
One last late call before the rays of sunlight wave us goodnight.