Poem by Ryan Bozeman “Post Mortem of a Night on the Town”

road during nighttime
photo by Dale Nibbe

Post Mortem of a Night on the Town

I squeeze my hands so tight
that I bend the bones until it hurts
They serve as shock absorbers
for the feeling of every eye laid squarely on my character

My jaw, clenched like a vise,
I don’t even realize till my teeth ache

(Unhinge, deep breath, center)

Thank god for this drink in my hand
Better than a Marlboro Light
Though I miss that
When in doubt
Drink
Conversation lulls?
Find an out. Take cover! Disengage.

A sweaty baptism of spilled swill
and sticky skin that reminds me again
of my shortcomings. They are limitless. And I hate this. I’m nauseous.

Died in my bed again to the sound of the wobbly fan. My love, my closest friend. I’m sleeping in.

Bio:

I love to create scores for others’ poems (you can hear a few on my SoundCloud link below) – let me know if any poet/poem comes to mind. I love collaborating and creating and view it as free therapy. 

I’m a songwriter and (occasional) poet from St. Augustine, FL. Just now finding the courage to actually put a poem out there to the world. Only took me 39 years. 

My SoundCloud link – 

https://soundcloud.app.goo.gl/Nv5mf9ksap7t6GBC6.

My FB page is @brotherwellmusic

By davidlonan1

David writes poetry, short stories, and writings that'll make you think or laugh, provoking you to examine images in your mind. To submit poetry, photography, art, please send to feversofthemind@gmail.com. Twitter: @davidLOnan1 + @feversof Facebook: DavidLONan1

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