You Weren’t the Only One Who Was Tired

Looking out the window of
a bar you’ll never  
return to  
 
looking at her eczema
hands and beer belly
knowing she belonged
to something else
 
nothing but a dull, aching
blackness and that was
all
 
you’d see the odd woman
every now and again and
yearn
 
and then you’d go into a
liquor store and buy a  
fifth of vodka and a
six pack and maybe
some cigarettes
because lifespan
meant nothing
to you
 
everything was green and
all the pussies were pink and
you were down there in  
that black void
 
everything painted blue and
a renaissance in red
 
the competition was weak,
but you were even more so
 
alone in that condo on super-
bowl weekend
 
maybe a bong hit for a  
birthday celebration
 
leftover pirogis in the
microwave
 
sour cream on the coffee
table  
 
living it up on the company’s
dime
 
I couldn’t even call a friend
when he needed me most
 
I watched the same videos
over and over again
 
my routine was absolute
 
I still came back to this, but
how it dwindled and
dwindled
 
another jerkoff session  
 
another succubus season  
in hell
 
we would ultimately fail to
see the humor in things
 
her doing what she knew to
do best
 
I was a coward staring out
from the corner and  
hell knew all about it