oblivion (first draft)

Old man saddles
up to the bar
says I need a
liquid transfusion
of your best cold

It’s the image
of her eyes
filled up to despise
all the stupid
little things I’ve

I’m haunted by
the sounds of
her sobs in the
dark when she
thinks I’m still

I stare at the
ceiling and the
cracks in the wall
and I wonder how
we ever even
ended up like this

I can remember
a time when
your eyes shone
bright in the
sunlight on the
arms of the
Park St bridge

You whispered in
my ears, sweet
nothings and that
was fine, cause
i could smell your
perfume and feel
you chest against
mine and your
warm slender
fingers tied up
between strokes
of your hair

Now I sit in
this bar after
midnight choking
on the crusts
of your despair
sipping MGD and
getting high on
Saul Williams

And I long for
the time when
you’d be there
beside me feeding
me lines from
his book

I’m a low flying
crook who
swooped down on
your heart, carried
it to heights
then smashed it
on the rocks

And I watched
your broken dreams
crumple and get
mixed up in the
sand and washed
away in the sea

floating in the
night like a
piece of dead
wood drifting
to be washed
up on the banks
of Babylon

a city in strife
like your broken
heart mourning
lost in oblivion


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