random couches

I wake up
on
another couch
in another
house
that
I
don’t recognize.

the sex
and
the lies;
the drugs
and
the cries
perverse
my
sadistic view
of the
world.

bloody mary
for breakfast
spanish sherry
for dinner;
that’s how
I remember
their names
for I am
a sinner…
and I’m a fan
of the red
hue.

I’m a philistine
and
a drunken fiend;
a beleaguered soul
at war with myself,
which I can only lose
despite the paradox.

I should probably
start getting my
shit together
to live on the streets
as a pauper
because I’m
mixing again;
forever a popper.

planes, trains, and automobiles
pills, liquor, drugs, and
all those thrills
lead to the same spot:

a random couch
in a random house

at least I’m not fighting
off bed bugs,
but couch bugs…
those are some nasty
fuckers.

Published by

jonathandeanrichie

Recently moved back to the States after living 16 months in Vietnam. I write to remove the thoughts trapped in the cobwebs of my psyche before the spider envelopes me whole.

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