“Is that your sancho?” the fat Latino on the bar stool said.
In reference to me,
“Sancho? Oh… no.” This forgotten girl from China said
His question was with a preconceived knowledge
that probably yielded a surprise in knowing the truth,
Her placatory reply was uttered
in a matter of fact yet contemplative tone
that left me wistful and plaintive.
She knew and knows,
it is funny though how days later,
I could care less about how people are careless
With the people they just met,
We are all tangential,
gentle like a haymaker,
I bawled like a child at the end of a balled fist
Yet I am reserved and unspoken.
I carve, I crave, I carve my distaste in spades, amorously,
The charcoal sunsets are running down and out,
Sinking and being swallowed by the water,
Ruminations on fleeting impulses,
I am alone like I’ve always been.
In this lowly room, meant for a child,
There are no offerings to give, just pain to undergo,
Alcohol is a depressant because I drank it and this is how I feel,
Groggy and uninspired, unhinged and underappreciated,
There is something that you could do to make it alright.
You could kiss me, shit,
You could just lay your hand on me,
You’re making me awkward, I am though already,
This is how it always is, always is like the old days,
I will drift off soon and only know nothing.
You were so blunt, shit,
You told me but did I hear it at all?
You also said that I remind you of someone else,
This is how it always is, always is love like failure,
I will shuffle off soon and hopefully know something.
- ▼ October (10)
Bigmouth Strikes Again
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