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Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
It's Thursday
If it were Wednesday
It would be the same
again, you are not here
So,
     I think to call someone else
and have regrettable ***
and forget you for a night
but I don't
I'm tired of it
I'll be alone
So,
I think I'll sit by myself
drink
    and talk to the gods
they don't exist
but they are nearer than you
Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
a man runs down the road
exercise brings comfort
but who needs comfort
when you have
beer
cigarettes
and a summer afternoon
Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
It's hard to meet new people
they're so foreign
they do things like wear hats
and play baseball
they listen to bad music
they like crossword puzzles
I don't like to hear them talk
but
      at night
when I get very cold
and sometimes it hurts to breathe
I'd like one of them next to me
or I'd like to hear them talk
anything to make me warm again
I can't have it all
but sometimes
I want it.
Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
It is late,
and the beer drips down my throat
                                                             goes to my head
meets the silence
            tomorrow is too hard to think about
                                                                      but tonight
my youth dances with the alcohol
                                                           they aren't good dancers
but no one is watching
and tomorrow is late
Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
my apartment is empty
except for me and my fat cat
he is good company
but I wish he could talk
I like to wonder what he would say
             got any whiskey?
where's the nearest pool hall?
I haven't seen my woman in
8 years
            and I'm lonely.

Me too, I would say,
lets smoke and drink all night
                            lets conquer
                            these blues.
Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
black coffee
and
the radio
    and I'm still battling
    my demons
shooing them away
        "give me a break, I'm so young"
        I say
They argue amongst themselves
loudly
                                and  come to no decision
black coffee
and
the radio
Jillian Jesser Dec 2015
trickling down the walls
the thick red blood
of a dying thought
drips onto my head
drip
     drip
           drip
all I see is red
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