pizza, beer, and cigs
nothing else matters here
since you were born, have you been anywhere else?
gobblin’ pizza, gulpin’ beer, smokin’ cigs
have kids as a child
that’s the main goal here
have a bun in the oven
as soon as the sun comes up
over the horizon
then you could strike up a conversation
with the first bloke you met
at the back of your block
get yourself knocked up, no school
just drink, eat, sleep, smoke, work routine
livin' on repeat
until your sadness is over
what will you do when you older?
have more babies to kill Monday
blues?
the earth can’t take any more brats here
not everyone will be a genius
one spoiled, the next one gone
the middle may meander
somewhere on the decent social ladder
there is no room to cater to everyone’s whim
someone has to disappear
in these drug abuse knotty arrangements
subject to availability
at the time of creation
why so many?
*
October – November 2022
***
Thank you for reading!
If you liked this poem, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work.
You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.
About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
Find me on Medium
Keep reading
More stories from Mescaline Brisset and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Mescaline Brisset is not accepting comments at the moment
Want to show your support? Send them a one-off tip.