By John Patrick Robbins

 

On another night like any other.
I will pen the lines I lived once
Now I bleed them alone.

Fading like ink soon forgotten with time.
We all have our hang ups.

I know the wind can’t tell stories and my soul cannot bare the complete truth.

Old friends , do you know a dream that soon morphed into a monster you prefer to ignore ?

Nights alone allow you to exist as simply you are.

A page to fill a story I won’t finish.
A deadline I will never meet.

 

John Patrick Robbins is the editor and chief of the Rye Whiskey Review and Under The Bleachers .

He is also the author of A Cold Beer Beats A Warm Heart published by Alien Buddha Press and available on Amazon.

His work has been published here at The Academy Of Heart And Mind , Angry Old Man Magazine , Red Fez , Romingos Porch , Horror Sleaze Trash , Ariel Chart , Outlaw Poetry Network , The Whiskey Writer , Blue Pepper ,Spill The Words.

His work is always unfiltered.


I wrote my verbal grave now I find the abyss a place from which I cannot escape.

Poisoned in my logic.

Dying all the same.

Yeah that sounds just about right.

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