Old Stinky Joe
The bed I lie on is made of concrete or soil
Evil talks to me both day and night
Each day is a toil
Would suicide make it right
What a mess I’ve become
Despair is my friend
Everything feels dumb
Maybe this is the end
Drugs and booze
What a way to lose
Is there nothing left to choose
Except maybe another bottle of booze
I once had a wife
A house and a car
But that was another life
Cause I can’t even sit in a bar
They say urine is my scent
My breath is a sewer pipe
Am I completely bent
Am I worth a bleeding cent?
Now I try to sleep
Screw you and your world
For I can no longer weep.
For my life is uncurled.
Authors Notes
I have worked a life time with people and watched homelessness
grow and fester. Old Stinky Joe was a name I once heard used by
an educated rising star in a hotel chain. The rythmes are far from perfect
but neither was Old Joe.
Bruce Curle 2025
About the Creator
Bruce Curle `
Greetings! I’m a Canadian writer, certified Life Coach, and actor with a passion for storytelling, creativity, and versatility.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.