another night spent
wondering about life
alone
imagining a stranger's hand
wrapped around my cock
instead of my own for the
30th time this week
it's tuesday night by the way
where are the beautiful women
where's the joy, the laughter
the reason to push this
existence into the future
hell, where the fuck
are my fifteen minutes
and with my last drink,
i let the bottle hit the floor
to collect with the others
say something to myself
in a passing conversation
about wanting to meet the
fucker trying to come up
with these storybook endings
and no sooner than the words
hit the dirty air of my room
did i catch a glimpse of
myself in the mirror
i promptly stood up
and opened the window
let the cool air brush up
against my body
then i took the mirror
and threw it out the window
with the crashing of the
glass i shut the window
and went to bed
i shall sleep easy tonight
happy to know
i'll never have
to see that fucker
again