When drinking martini’s isn’t enough

And ripping through joints of weed is popcorn

And he’s still not looking at you

It sucks.

It’s not about resurrections

It’s anger

You feed to lose yourself

When it’s not enough

Silence without a tongue

You pretend

They never get it

With the voice of real in the forefront of your mind

I want you

Never leaves your mouth

Only pretending

When it’s not cool at all

I know

And walk home


The voices remain

At the forefront of my mind

It doesn’t matter

Who it is or where it comes from

It matters when it talks.

And tonight it’s…

I walk down the street

And my feet hurt

I bend over and fix the strap of my shoe.

And the band-aid is crushed beneath the strap.

I stride through the discomfort.

Is this my crucifixion?

I suppose it saves lives.


Woman adjusting her shoe strap image available from Shutterstock.