big fish, little fish
(plenty of fish) not so much
sitting here, hair down
hanging on the edge
of some distant and shaded dream
i’m casting a hollow pole
slightly off center
waiting for luck or fate to find me
and remembering the fish that got away
the bugs are thick
and my blood is thin
soothed by timeless tunes
it’s a playful competition
of meditation and irritation
but i got tired of that repetitive game
so i drove to the store
slightly more intoxicated than i should have been
moving slow and measured down these familiar roads
the warm recirculated air felt good
on my sweaty brow
the trees were rendered in a blissful blur
and the moon was obscured
by an unnatural haze
and when i arrived at my inevitable destination
the market was almost completely devoid
of that delicate human element
the moment was nearly perfect
for an extroverted introvert like me
there’s something about last minute excursions
i like shopping at night
but i’m not sure you can call what i was doing shopping
i was only there for this evening’s beer
and tomorrow night’s wine
i was hungry
but the thought of preparing food
seemed so obsolete
and peaceful as that empty supermarket was
i could feel the biting trance
of drunken poetry taking hold
i couldn’t wait to get home
and waste slow time
on this downgraded machine
coming up with words and phrases
that none of you would understand
upon my wicked arrival
i decided to consume the weakest beer
and listen to the witcher 3 wild hunt concert
and thankfully my black and white kitten
had chosen an un-obtrusive spot on my desk
to sit, and observe
and now, here i sit
drunk and naked once again
fifty-one lines into this dissonant and melodic ramble
unable to choose a suitable direction
for this black and questionable narrative
i feel like man of mystery
trapped and bearing useless gifts
lingering on one last chemical distraction
casually battling the imminent grasp of restless sleep
and dangerously reaching towards
an insane manifestation of borrowed faith