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a poem

By Sean ByersPublished 2 months ago 1 min read
Photo by Nicola Nuttall on Unsplash

A bolt of sunlight stabs the morning air,

my blinking eyes revolt at the disturbance

and curse the foul intrusion.

Traffic jams and bottle necks, without and within,

Car horns and sirens scream with shrill displeasure.

I should be elsewhere, among them, but a groggy mind

is robbed of all ambition, and so I choose to linger.

All impetus betrayed by a headache still deceiving,

cruelly enticing with dread temptation

the vicious instigating thirst.

Flop house floor, a bare and dingy mattress,

A belt removed from soiled jeans,

encoiled about my arm, a blind hand gropes to find

Plaster chips and window cracks, an enwebbed bug

embalmed in silken sheets.

"Just look at you. Get up, you filthy beast!"

An irksome voice rebukes. It's mine.

"Silence, scruples, go away," with palm, I pound

the head that bred the thought.

"and let me drown in peace."

social commentarysad poetry

About the Creator

Sean Byers

Literary hobbyist who, in an act of sophomoric hubris, once dreamed of writing the great American novel. My ambitions having cooled since, I am now content to write for the pleasure of the craft and whoever finds my work of any interest.

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