Thoughts after a few good hands of poker

by Ralkkai

There is a

sweet embrace of the cool air
trying to stave the hunger of heat
As May dies into June’s arms.

Drunk on nights like these
with random voices yelling into the night
and I had a few good hands
at poker
won a few pots against friends.
Easy game, no money involved.

It’s nights like these
when the darkness stretches on
and all I know is
the glow
of the halogen light bulb
painting a soft yellow
across the room.

A few barking sirens
and the noises coming from
the bedroom as she falls asleep
watching television
and I feel as though
this is alright.

Life is alright.

My persona
used to be that of a raging being
putrid disdain for too much for me to recall.

I used to be that maniac Atheist
yelling back. I used to carve swear words
and song lyrics into my folders
at school, listen to Marilyn Manson
and discuss faux-paradigm shift wet dreams
with the sophisticated types,
only to find out that
we were the suffocated types
instead.

There was nothing new, no break through
so real that we would break world ideals;
no revolution created, just a whole lot of
empty words and miscreants misbehaving.

I fell short of that wet dream
just like they all do.

Now I sit at a computer screen
understanding that I
am just a man

and this is just words
on paper.

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