this eve…

this eve…

it is not easy…nor luscious…just is…just …

endlessly roaming streets…looking at boys in bandanas…fat chicks in tight skirts…lights blinking…on..off..on..off..on..off..

and in taverns empty beer pitchers turned upside down wait to be filled by bartenders who’ve seen better days…salty…bloated…mad at a nickel ’cause it ain’t a dime…wait…that’s me…

out-of-work mechanics brag ’bout this broad and that…black-oil under yellowed nails wrapped ’round mugs hoisted to Billy’s baby boy born last week to some black bitch on the Southside…guess who’s coming to dinner….

cars pass-by…busses pick-up crazies like me left out in November’s rain…take one pill an’ pocket the rest…

savin’ for the big sleep…the big sleep…

to dream….

ah…to dream…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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