Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Wandering drunk through the night (prose poem)

I want something again. Oh god, do I want it. Give me all the love stories you want, but I'll still feel like something's missing, I'll still crave those first moments of love like I crave a pint (or two) of beer after a long day. Anything to feel a little love, to have a love to proclaim, to have those passionate moments before a kiss, the playful pillowfight on the couch, to have someone to hold in the heart of the night.

Like a flame with no light, I felt the burn of desire but couldn't see any further so I let it die.

My life's become a long night out, and I'm just drunk, trying to function like a normal person, only to end up nonsensical and impulsive. I've already closed the bar, town's all gone to bed, and I'm wandering through the starless sky. I think I'm going home, but I can't see, I can barely walk. I'm lost. I don't know if I will survive the night, or fall off the bridge into the river.

But every motivational speaker will say the same thing, that old cliché : the night is darkest before the dawn, and spring follows every winter, so don't give up. But just because spring follows winter, doesn't mean you won't freeze to death first.

I want to say I see the first rays of sunlight over the horizon, but I don't know if I do, if I'm telling myself I do just to be able to continue going. Dawn seems a lifetime away, and I've already spent a third of mine.

Maybe it's better to be drunk and stumbling, if only to numb the futility of this long walk to death alone.

-Zero

No comments:

Post a Comment