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.