Poem Hunter
PN (Oct 1983 / Canada)


I sit alone at home
the three cats nuzzling
begging me for the affection I don't have the energy
to give.
I am flat broke.
I rounded up enough change to make two phone calls.
I have no one to call. No one to save me from all of this.
My head pounds, aches.
My throat swallon, but it won't stop me
from sucking on those cigarettes.
I feel weak, defeated; failure drips over, keeps me
from removing this robe
from getting off this couch
and doing something. Anything.

There will be tomorrow.
I can go out be productive.
This all feels so pointless.
Wish I were a talented fucker-
than I'd have an excuse for being such a bum.
Will I be remembered? I've already been forgotten.

Think I'll just go to bed
And wait for tomorrow.

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Comments (1)

Oh yea! been here! great write