Sat at the bar listening to Joy Division
as I saw an eternal and final vision of the aftermath -
the place of truth
without thought of family or clearer day than the afterlife.
A smoke filled final breath
before a clean break from tension leading to the denouement,
grand curtain call washing line ending.
I've spent my days tasting it all
the wine
the beer
the dark spirits
the clear.
I'm at the point where my heart is bare at its end
without any poetic armor.
A comedy, a tragedy and a dysfunctional drama
wrapped in one blown ******
of regretted sown seed in a field of weeds.
Goodbye my love,
girl I could never be with
or get over.
Goodbye my Christmas soul brother
a duplicate mind who I loved
unlike any other.
We came, saw and conquered the corner
we tried this lung busting run
but my end has come.
There we were and here we are,
never ending tour of a has-been star -
I see through life's disguised attempt at sloppy seconds this time.
I'm stuck in a cul-de-sac
wayward ever mend
of soul shaking cloth line dreams
and nightmares of wind blown cigarettes,
a drink might get me through another night
as I cry with my vision of sharing a cigarette with Ian Curtis.
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 10:57 PM UTC