LinesA Poem by BlueZanWhiskey and wine or beer and cigarettes, it takes a substance to write a line. Regret begets regret begets passion begets whiskey and wine or beer and cigarettes maybe lines between lines, lines under lines written in ink on cigarette paper to inhale words that are hard to say out loud and even harder on my lungs and they’re indelible but at least I can’t see them anymore. At least they are staining my lungs instead of my lips, words that won’t help anyone by being heard words that flow dark and heavy, ideas born of drunken sadness or high lowness or exceptional mediocrity, I’ve always been an overachiever when it comes to underachieving, I can’t draw a straight line or walk a straight line or visualize a straight line but I try. I try to reason with myself and my own actions I try to tell your voice in my head that I tried, I tried so hard but sometimes the harder I feel I’m trying the less it looks like I’m doing anything at all. Sometimes I feel lonely until I remind myself that real loneliness is wanting to tell someone you miss them but having no one to miss. Sometimes I feel like I’ve crossed some imaginary, indelible line that can be neither seen nor heard and I remember there is no line, there are no lines between the lines on this paper between my fingertips so I take another sip, light another cigarette printed with the things I’ll never say and look even harder for another line to cross.© 2014 BlueZanReviews
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2 Reviews Added on August 2, 2014 Last Updated on August 2, 2014 |