I’m not one
with anyone.

I smoke and
write this poem.

Smoke
finds me,

comforts me,
alone.

I am broken
and bruised.

My mind obtuse
and used.

Should be
asleep.

But this is
the scenery.

A rock show
With people

and little
old me

smoking
a smoke alone.

Funny that
I’m a comedian.

Joke’s gone
on too long.

Sing a song,
speed away.

Have a
smoke alone.

They don’t care
about me.

I don’t care
about them.

I’m just venom
in a pen,

written with
my medicine.

Took drinks
and drugs away,

stripped me
to my core.

Good cavern to
put possessions in.

Just a lot
of poems, jokes,

guitar picks
and pens,

a letter
to my daughter

and a lesson
learned in time.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.