chasing memories
as monikers
saturated in doorways & stoops
chasing highs
with late nite insomniacs
huddled around burning barrels
spilling tea
& torching time
I cant tie the place to the trauma
it would be endless
a mare in the night
creating stained
mosaics out of my own
broken memories
shattered
into gutters
I've looked for their face
in every crowd
on every stage
they put a sign on the window
that says
gone fishing
About the Creator
G.S Hasckle
hello i am g.s hasckle i am a new orleans street poet, i travel around with a backpack and my typewriter writing poems on demand for anyone who hears my siren song
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts4 days ago in Longevity
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