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Rest for the Wicked

When you have whiskey for blood
and the Spirit's seeped out of you
like the air out of an old bicycle tire
on the way to a fast food job interview in the rain,
you might come home later to a leaky studio apartment
on the shitty side of town out by the old steel mill
frightened, deep in need and wanting to end it all.
You might sit on the floor with the phone in your hand
trying to remember her number,
practicing the words that will deceive her into thinking
you really are worth something.
A man's voice answers.
and a ridiculous kind of 'fuck-all' courage rises in you
and you proclaim he'll never love her like you do!
She's on the phone now, fuming, telling you to get lost,
and you remind her, barely audible,
in the resigned calm of pure honesty -
that you're lost already.
And you might hate her for not loving you back.
And you might tell her so.
That's when you realize
what a miserable, selfish bastard you really are.
Suddenly your inner eyes have opened
and you see your flimsy little self-centered life
in all its devastating and sublime objectivity.
And you might let everything go
and sleep -
sleep like a baby.
you might not.

17 Sep 14

Rated 5.5 (9.5) by 2 users.
Active (2): 1, 10
Inactive (13): 5, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10

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(79 more poems by this author)

(6 users consider this poem a favorite)

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i KNEW this was yours.
this poem did a number on me when i first read it
wow, 9
THIS is a sonic boom.
 — mandolyn

This is excellent!!!
 — unknown

Thank you :D
 — 9

Yes, sir!
 — dannyprice

Go to the top of the class. Fine writing
 — larrylark

didn't the old title say "no rest for the wicked?"
i like this title much better...
seems to fit

except YOU are NOT the wicked one, 9.
 — mandolyn

I'm not?
 — 9

why would you think you're wicked?
i know the title conveys that, but i'm telling you that you are far from being wicked.
your heart says otherwise. and your soul is alive.

we are all jackasses, aren't we?
the difference is you know that and strive for LOVE.
the girl in the poem, the one who told you to get lost
she is probably very lost now.
you obviously loved her, and it was real. (if this is you speaking in the poem)

(did i just sound like a complete idiot? just tell me to shut up.)
again, i love this poem.
it's an explosion of truth and reality worded perfectly
 — mandolyn

the very ending says it all
with that one little word 'or'
the wicked seem to rest fine
perhaps the man in the poem never did sleep like a baby ...
 — mandolyn

Thank you mandolyn.
And I did sleep ;)
 — 9

 — 4st7lb

This is "wicked" GOOD!  The blue hues resonate perfectly throughout!  Love u, 9!  :-)
 — starr

Great re-use of the phrase in the title. I like.

The first arrangement is fine, I appreciate it as the development stage, the setting of the scene and first encounter with character.

.. and there is stays, in this distilled moment, but it also flits into the mind of the second person story teller, the observer observing themselves knowing they are doing just that.

I love single room or scene theatre plays .. two persons reacting to one another, or just one person to them self and the world they find themselves in.. and this strongly reminds me of that type of play.

The second person voice allows us directly into the mind and being of this ... whoever it might be, so we might be them, that's a good device which you don't overuse, but just use enough to get to the point.

I read Lines 24 and 25 as that.

A good read, with some thoughtful stage management.
 — jenn

is stays = it stays *
 — jenn

I like the way the last line really contrasts line 28 in the conclusion of this poem
 — freshdan

Thank you all.
 — 9

I enjoyed this poignant portrayal of a life that seems to be one enormous SNAFU.  A fine piece of work which I sincerely hope is not autobiographical.
 — SilverGirl

It's decent. I might become the 4th user who considers this poem a favorite
if I weren't so damn high.
 — unknown

 — unknown

A great poem! I love it's forwardness.
 — kisken01

 — 9

 — unknown

 — unknown