The Pathology of Need and Night Train

I was funny in my twenties
a jester fueled
by Southern Comfort and cheap jug wine
night after explosive night
winding up in
love or in jail
and you wouldn’t have wanted it
any other way

I was something, wasn’t I?
wild and feral and savage in my lust
for wine
for song
for experience

for you

but that was so long
so long ago

I curse you now
through broken teeth
and eyes clenched tight
fighting back the tears
that I refuse to shed
for your memory

damn you
for giving up
on me

The night train is coming now
coming down the tracks
and there’s no one waiting
at the station anymore
but it’s the only train I know

One by one
the friends have fallen away
to indifference and lives
rich and full, filled with work and family
that have no place for me
you were the last
and you stuck, bitterly, by my side
until you couldn’t look at the man I am
and endure the comparison
to the man I used to be

The skin tight jeans and whiskey glow
looked so goddamn sexy in my youth
but as I slide, definitively
over the hill
they are just a hardened shell
blocking out the light
and holding in the
rage

and even though I know it’s going nowhere
when the night train comes for me
I always get on board

This entry was posted in Poem Archive, Rehab Stories and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.