0130

I sip cold red wine
from a plastic tumbler.
I drink diet coke
like it was water.
I exhale smoke
and inhale slaughter.
My life is all but sane.

I kiss strangers
but shy away from friends.
I study
but it doesn’t pay dividends.
I sometimes wonder
whether I’ll make amends
for all that’s been spent on me.

I play too much
and should know better.
I drink often
but wish I were wetter.
I spend money
though I’m a debtor.
Life is a chain letter.

I’ve decided to do a poetry series for this, my first year in my third decade! I’m going to try to write a poem for each week of 30, numbered for which week it is instead of titling each piece. I don’t really have a theme set. We’ll see how well I stick to the goal.

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About Michael Robinson

An eclectic person living in a world rife with binaries, opposition, anger and pain and trying to find the spectra, love, happiness and catharsis within.
This entry was posted in Identity, Personal Psychology, Poetry, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

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