Milk bottles and nipples to suck,

sleep and eat and all the luck.

Hugs and kisses like loads of trucks;

Warm sponge bath and short awkward strut.


Summer time and school no more,

fool around and fight the bore;

Penniless days and bodies sore;

Cashless! but never poor.


Sex and drugs and malicious ink,

waking up drunk in your own stink;

Long crazy nights and fluorescent kink,

acid and raves and eating pink.


Wooden doors and plastered walls,

broken seats in bathroom stalls;

Drunken nights and bar brawls;

Window shopping in outlet malls.


Bitter and old and very grey,

lost battles in life’s lonely fray;

Homeless and hungry on the sidewalk stray,

asking for freedom with every pray-er


By: Viraj Belgaonkar




3 thoughts on “Journeyman

  1. Pingback: Liquid Courage | Poème du Noir

Pen it... or aaa type it. u know what i mean.

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