Inhaling the smoke deep down As the remedy for life, Looking up at the night sky Staring at the night. Drinking the whiskey of piece With ice cubes and freedom Life wasn’t great lately but There are things I can Still enjoy. Another sip, another drag, Another star up in the sky, The life goes by, yours and mine, As the clock is ticking, As the cigarette is burning, As the ice is melting in the whiskey glass. I know that things will be better one day. I know that for sure, but not just now. I hope I can make it through.
Jack woke up early that morning. He couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t able to fall back to sleep for a while now, but he tried to stay in bed as long as possible. It seemed like the sleep was a long time gone, and all he did in the last two hours was just twisting and turning. He had a bad dream, something weird from the past was going through his mind and his dreams, and he couldn’t lose it. The minute he’d fall asleep, that same weird, strange dream came back to haunt him. It almost felt like watching the same annoying video on Youtube on repeat. At some point, he just gave up. Fuck that, he thought, I guess that is enough of the battle. It is time to wake the fuck up and smell the roses. It is another day, and it is a new day to start things fresh. Maybe it is time to start life fresh?
He went to the bathroom, took a piss, and turned the cold water on to wash his tired face. The cold water felt great. It felt refreshing, even though he still felt the same old tired. He watched his reflection in the mirror and noticed that he is not the same person he thought he was. He noticed that he’s changed. His face changed, his attitude changed, and there was some grey hair sticking out of his temples, letting him know that he’s no longer that young and careless lad, and reminding him that life went on taking its toll on him. Damn, I am getting old, thought Jack, with a bit of sadness.
Coffee was on his list next. Jack liked a good, freshly brewed black coffee, made in the Moka pot, the way Italians made coffee for decades. The good old coffee tradition that stock with people for years, even today, in these weird fucking days, people are still brewing the same coffee the same way. It felt more authentic to Jack and more pleasurable to brew his coffee himself. Hell, it was so much better then that drip filtered bullshit or anything you can get at those fucking gas stations. The classic music radio played on his smart speaker, and it just felt normal. The only normal thing about his life was coffee and classical music.
There goes another poem Just to show you that there is still Something more to say. There goes another line, Just to show you that We are moving on. We all know that there is the way out, But we don’t know where exactly that is. We don’t know how to get there And we all try very hard to find it. To find that way out.
The morning sun will never lie to you But your mind will, You will lie to yourself Looking for the truth, Looking for comfort. There is more comfort in the lie Then in truth, There is more comfort in rain Then in the blue sky, There are better days somewhere Out there Waiting for us With all the rain and blue skies, and All the poems in the world.
