No Fault of My Own & Remorse

© Jeremy Smyers

He's not happy
he just looks happy
because he's drunk
all the time
and it's not his fault
that the light at the end
of the tunnel
turned out to be
a train.

remorse

not much left, lately,
from the right side.
trying. all too hard
to be Right.
go east
maybe, or not,
I went too far...
so far,
that I started going west
Regrets make me step
off the Earth.
A slow downward spiral;
falling leaf, maybe.
Blurred by 80 proof
and endless cheap nights.
Momentarily broken up
by a devil bitch mouth,
that reeks of dollar packs
of cigarettes
instead of Love,
that speaks flat thoughts;
stupid ideas...
so, so, so far
from where I use to be.
Nothing left to look forward to.
Except, maybe, at the most,
this poem.