Blue collar solitude soliloquy
Nursing a coffee holding back hunger pangs suppress my dark thoughts and dream Meloncholy for a spell - lick my wounds and dust myself off in the realization that I am part of the pace part of the race of rats- my hopes aloft in a revolving door of thoughts and sighs of either way it ain’t easy- there are two paths to take and before I break I stand up and press on- with a broken back from taking up the slack left behind by the careless in my
Last caress of dreams as the morning slips away held captive by that
Impending sun set- voices raise in waves of desperate crowds looking to get that fix, get numb, get back to that momentary bliss- I see that look on your face I feel your presence even when I avert my gaze- blue collar wage don’t make those ends meet don’t relieve my weight don’t buy me that place in the sun, no where to run but in place on this hamster wheel spinning and creaking in selfless revolutions noise pollution of this storm of voices- dive bar polished up with ammonia and bleach well drinks on the house the spirit of the city dwellers blues chant in an endless dance of circumstance- I am a faceless figure in the crowd to you but I observe every move you make every time you pass me by like opportunity I swoon towards the darkness and in shadows I slowly make my way back out to a sunrise ray of hopes and dreams still not dead, still wide awake in the grasp of a man who will not be kept under your thumb- every time I hear the blues sung it strikes me in a way that can’t be explained with whiskey in my veins and nicotine stains on my finger tips I am one of you and we are crosshatched into the framework of the working class hymns we sing in self pity, drowning in a drink trying to gather my senses
