“Now, what was I gonna say? ” <br /> <br />I forgot. It’s gone. <br /> <br />out the window <br /> <br />through the black hole in time <br /> <br />and my head, <br /> <br />like so often <br /> <br />before. <br /> <br />Along with <br /> <br />wallet, <br /> <br />keys <br /> <br />and this month’s <br /> <br />rent. <br /> <br />Hours wasted <br /> <br />around midnight. <br /> <br />As my clock showed a <br /> <br />million to something, <br /> <br />it struck me: <br /> <br />I could be dead <br /> <br />tomorrow <br /> <br />or better off. <br /> <br /> <br />Waking up with V.I.P <br /> <br />monster truck tickets, <br /> <br />half empty bottles <br /> <br />of 21 year old whisky <br /> <br />or a younger naked whore <br /> <br />besides me <br /> <br />and a dick that itches, <br /> <br />without knowing why or how. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Scratches my itch <br /> <br />I unscrew the cap, <br /> <br />screw the whore, <br /> <br />wondering where those hours <br /> <br />went, and if life would <br /> <br />have been <br /> <br />more fun <br /> <br />wasting sober?<br /><br />Carsten Thomsen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/black-hole-23/
