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After the Spin

Partied like a rock star,
and became a rolling stone--
wandering a dusty road
my mouth dry as a bone
Jose Cuervo at Lake Havesu
catch a frisbee after hitting the bong,
but nowhere to go, is this freedom?
neck strain, sleeping in the back seat, 
must stretch the food stamps
so, fill up and run at a gas station
look for the next party 
give plasma for a dime bag
suck the beer keg empty
puke it up after the spins
(under a friend's bedspread)
full of meaningless laughs
mannequin chicks
their paint peels
I burn out -
crash

 

 

 

 

© Brian Hodgkinson Jr. (aka) –Limericist 2007/2021

 
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Posted by on April 9, 2021 in Poetry

 

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