Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2019
I love the way a light breeze consumes me
Early in the morning, as birds chirp, and traffic growls
And the cigarette smoke nestled deep in my lungs
     Offers me death and a brief episode of pleasure.

Flashback to a youth of chaos
     Created to incite visions
Of ancient hedonistic poets
     Who were quick to fall in love,

And fell they did.

     We read them late at night,
Bodies all sprawled out on an ash-covered floor
With all the lights on
In Bruno's crack den.
Only the humble sounds of light breathing, lighters sparking,
And pages turning, could be heard within those walls.
     Anywhere else it did not matter.

     We would stock up on poison
With Woodrow's warehouse money,
     And we would search for songs that represented us.

     We made a pact that we would consume and be prolific and destruct before old age.

It's years later now.

     I'm the only one who broke that pact,
While they are all clay and bone fragments and haunting

I should be thankful...
Written by
Royce  29/M/Canada
Please log in to view and add comments on poems