By Mooky Blaylock
Saturday night and the city is surely buzzing
I on the other hand, am not
Well, Not as yet
Instead I'm slapping out words on an old typewriter
In the Dark
Armed with sleep depravity and a dirty glass of scotch
But why in the dark
you may ask
And to this I shall say
Due to the lack of funds
That usually support my bills
To this humble abode of fuck and writing
This might, or might not,
have something to do with it
Now I'm sitting here afloat in dangerous mix
of smug sarcasm and silence
Nothing but the tack tack tack
of each letter smacking the living shit out of that page
It cracks through the absence of sound and space
How superiorly pathetic can a situation get?
I wanted to listen to old jazz records
But now instead... I try to forget
And in return remember the forgotten
How raw is our dependency on Edison's contribution?
How dependent have we become on our comfort?
So that's why I'm not there
You know? Out there
Cause I rather prefer this
Between these walls
Even with the sound of one of that fat bastards TV shows
that muffles through the walls
and destroys my train of thought almost deliberately
I still belong here
It's just you and me old man
Me..... and you
Now the room is floating
Buzzing like the city with it's self-destructive crest
A heart that pounds through my chest
And I see her face before me
In a vague blurry mess
Why after so long does it haunt me tonight?
The anguish in the pit of my stomach
whirls and splashes through alcohol themed acidic waves
and typing strokes becomes hard and tight
Might it be that this is what sadness feels like?
Might I have been this emotionally numb all this time?
And in doing so lost track of time?
Dare I say I miss you?
I might even be willing,
to throw that poisons L word into the mix
That one you like so much
But don't feel threaten
You needn't bother
For I shall no longer think this way
As I understand the impact of sin in pain
Thou shalt not covet another mans wife
Less a mother of two
At least this much respect I do have for you
And therefore I shall honor our unspoken truce of elusion
even in eluding thought itself
Farewell my dear of 10 years past
And be bathed in love unsurpassed