JUST A PHASE

The story of a genius.  Drunk at a rough bar.  The happy hour had driven them all into the floor.  He listened to them talk and tried to make believe that he wasn’t in the same boat.  He knew he was though.  Addicted to poison to avoid the smell of the dead walking.  He talks shit early and often.  A bouncer took him outside and tried to beat the hell out of him.  He got home and vomited blood and whiskey all over the rug by his front door.  He thought about going back to the place and kicking that guy’s ass.  He thought about it some more and thought that it might be better if he just stayed home and took it easy.  So that’s what he did.

He felt ripped off.  Like some part of his life had been denied to him by choosing not to return.  He was almost 30 and he knew the window was closing by the day.  The things he wanted turned into the thoughts that choked his progress.  The diamonds of his mind had been stolen by generous thieves, everything had turned to brass and tin.

He lived alone and listened to a lot of post-punk and neo-soul.  It made him remember the places he had been near but never quite gotten to.  After a certain age, you can’t go back.  You have seen too much and experience becomes the enemy.  He could taste the tin in his mouth.  Do you feel regret?  All of the things you could have done without the risk of getting shot in the head like it is today?  Without getting hopelessly into debt?  Do you ever look around and see the world as a thief?  Do you ever count all the times you have denied all of the things you feel so that you wouldn’t have to do anything about them?  We all shuffle aimlessly into the next day & the next & the next & the next.

Of course I wait for answers and at this point any will do. Our generation rises as the sun comes up and folds in on itself as the sun sets.  I watch them do it over and over again.  I keep expecting to see them blow up.  As a society, we are well past the point of sanity.  We scurry and shriek, dipped in blood and fear, force fed from television sets and computer screens.  Go downtown, it’s all duck and cover.  Now they have me doing it too.  I will wait in the cracks for a sliver of light, my ashes could burn burn the soul of Mary Magdalene.

Until then, I’m going back to the bar.
There’s a bouncer that needs to feel some truth.
The said his name is inspiration.