A check cashed and money already spent.
Debt to enslave.
It is what is pushed and pulled.
Feeding the craving.
Just another man sitting at bar stool.
Waiting for one more drink.
All too not think.
Another dip in the endless tank.
What keeps you coming back up?
Succulent air.
A new variety of despair, nothing so sudden.
But the creeping glare.
Eating holes through your previous nightmare.
Acid to face, scarred, battered, and torn.
Indecision becomes all you know.
Looking forward to hell, because this is worse.
A slow motion curse.
Get up go to work, eat, sleep, repeat.
With no end in sight.
Catching a glimpse of the twighlight, the in-between.
The moment with your mouth open before you take a deep breath.
The idea of success, I wonder if that's not when we're finally at rest.
Accumulated hours of wasted time.
Nothing to show, its just another dying glow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem