a drunken rambling

We're not taught about the reality of life. The crashing and burning, the pillaging and plundering. a rage of a dying thought clinging and lingering, holding on for dear life. It's all just a rat race no one wins. In the end we all die,  we all die. A head on collision, a stick of dynamite in a quarry, a child being born, but I'm not like them, I am a drunken ballet circus side show that no one goes to, vodka flavored and in and out. Barely there and yet in full color. Emptied, disembodied, lobotomized, in full swing and on my face on the ground. A tired middle aged man with no place to call home, no woman of my own, no one to call me their own. 

this was written on 10-11-2015

i was drunk and emotional

i kept it as a draft and 

only just now deciding to post it 

10-09-16

1:08am
and so i sit here in the reality of today....this time, this way
i think about things, the way it all is, my life, life in general
it seems life is a preparation for inevitability
a preparation for things that none of us are ever ready for
all of life's realities....
well, my father is 70 years old now....70 years old
jesus, when i say those words it feels so strange, so scarey
i remember the days from being a kid and my father and mother
being around my age and my grandparents were in their 70's
now the roles have changed, with my mother and father being
in the "golden years" and i, childless, wifeless, and no family
of my own, am forced into this reality because ive been in line
for a long time now....succession
i see my father, now frail and old, and the fear creeps in
like a morning fog, creeping onto the roads and streets
fear especially because of his illnesses and age combined
this fear i face alone, no shoulder to lean on or cry on
facing this battle alone is quite unnerving, quite lonely
oh i long for my best friend, my world, my love to come
and of course the longer i think on this, the tears well up
those rivers of sadness, those streams of an aching heart
those plethoras of emotions and feelings
well, the summer is gone now, with the fall season
coming into play with the cooler temps and sun setting
earlier and earlier...daylight slipping away
i love this time of year, if only the temps stayed in the
70s and skies were overcast
i feel ok, i guess, the sadness remains though
the lonely heart, and sad realities of growing old and older
im still waiting to see what happens tomorrow
sometimes i figure ill wake up and ill be at the front of the line
instead of in the middle of it...waiting for that fall into the grave
into the memory that will eventually fade away...into a non existence
by then the lonely heart wont matter anymore,
the drive of life will have been gone for a while
the waiting to see what happens tomorrow will also have been gone
ill be the frail old man...riddled with age and illness and a broken heart
anyway, the cats are up to their usual ways of the easy life
the girl cats plays inside of a paper shopping bag with a toy
and the boy cat sleeps in the back room somewhere
the house next door has new neighbors living in it
only the memory of the old lady who once lived there remains
the wasps still come and go as they please
and im still waiting to see what happens tomorrow
im hoping for the eternal bliss of dreams come true
im still jumping through hoops, just like you
into an oceanless blue, into the dreams of infinite beauty and elation
i dream on