A Dusty Dresser of Originality

I can’t be Hemingway or a Hunter S. Thompson.
I read them and somehow dream of Gonzo stories flowing from my well
-To become a representative of the 21st century and create my own words and philosophies.

I must find my own heartbreak
And not just reiterate
-my own laughter
-my own tears
-my own shotguns and wild turkey.
I must become my stories and also find a way for them not to devour me viciously.

I will become the streets I walk
And the bars I haunt.
-I will be more than the story
-I will be more than a whisper on an answering machine at 4am in your ear
-I will find my own crazy and define it to you
-I will mix my addictions and perceptions into unfettered originality

My life tonight is just a poetic note on an abandoned house dresser.
A life as a resemblance and as a forgetfulness of better days all the same.


2 thoughts on “A Dusty Dresser of Originality

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s