Sobriety
When someone wishes everyone dead, it means they wish they were instead. So says a third party from their apartment.Workers smoke against the wall of a condemned building and spit at the sound of the foreman’s bellows at dusk.Won’t you remove yourself from this yet nameless bard? The hot meal after a hard day’s work makes it all worthwhile.But tomorrow, I’ll stand strong as I offer up nothing. I’ve enough of patience. Should the spotlight fall on me, then do so at once!
Those in demolition, brothels, offices, all follow from the purity of elementary school. Reality is molded through education.You suck in the asbestos and cross demons as you pass through. A safety harness separates construction from tightrope walking.The mind races. It was never meant to be like this. Life swings like a pendulum, endlessly, and the cycle repeats.But what does it matter? Even shooting stars no longer grant wishes. I bet it all on my inner talent and watched the trend fall.
If it’s true there’s no value to pulling oneself up by their bootstraps, then envy those who do as little as possible.As my song of the century finally neared completion, I saw it for the refuse that it was and buried it with the rest.These dirtied work clothes inspire judgment on the subway, and the further south I go, the more they sting.Actors and musicians without homes, without resumes, forced to become temps for a local contractor just to get by.
In front of the office, old-timers toast the clear weather with a round of highballs. A modern spin on a successful catch at sea.To be forced to compromise is tantamount to exploitation. They sweat alcohol to the sounds of old shanties and classic blues.Fools gather around, a collection engrossed in their dreams. Before I knew it, I was included among their ranks.I left reality at the bottom of empty beer bottles. “Work was the worst today.” My dreams vanished between the words.
Cleaning plates after a light snack. Slow to see off, slow to welcome home. Special forces bicker in a drunken frenzy.More and more lines fill my monologue. The day roars. Its echoes reverberate. Or perhaps my mind deceives me.Messages written in flashbacks. You hurt yourself in order to fix yourself.I like the sound of destiny, but it sounds like a curse to my body.A wary conscious remains after morning binge drinking. I should sleep before paranoia sets in.
When someone wishes everyone dead, it means they wish they were instead. Is the world evil? Or am I?I stumble through my hometown, assaulted by freezing winds. If that’s how the world acts, I’ll just crawl behind the rest.Quivering at the morning glow, my overcoat’s collar turned up. My hometown still stands in lieu of all my hopes and dreams.I can’t live here anymore. As fast as my desperation can carry me, I’m out of here! I’ve never felt so sober before.
Young and old, this entire planet is drunk to the core. Ours is a perfect and utterly pure sobriety.I don’t need the pain, the gnashing, the drunken singing opposite me. The man writes a poem and frees the crowd of its melancholy.To have no place you belong means you can belong anywhere. To lick our wounds is to taste our own sweet nectar.Rid the basement of the foul-smelling mold at once. Feel the rain of a modern age against your naked body.