daryl salach

a night in hell

I had been up all night
drinking
with a woman who loved cats.

she lived in a low rent
area of the city
where you would see a thug,
a crack addict,
broken dreams
and a cop chase
if you were lucky.
the night was filled
with possibilities.

we ran out of drink
around 11,
she suggested we walk
to a pub up the hill
for a few rounds.

the cats scratched
away
at the furniture legs
undaunted.

we staggered around
her flat
a while in silence
itching this
and that,
our booze high
was slowly
turning into rage.
so we put
on our shoes
and walked into hell
two sordid, debauched
luminaries on safari.

there were light snow
flakes
bouncing off my swollen
nose, taunting me
as if we were scaling
some tall mountain crest
when in fact
there were only 3 cemented
steps we needed to climb
in order to reach level ground.

we walked along
a snow covered sidewalk
her hip bouncing
off mine,
our balance compromised
by our willingness
to experience
an uncontrollable
counterbalance together.

these feelings,
amusing to most
felt real and genuine
to us,
we needed each other
then,
before the poison
that we both realized
would one day
explode in our laps,
taking our sanity
and guile
without mercy or resolve.
this was it, all we had,
all we could think of
to do.

we had each other.


lunch break

we are everything internet
these days,
work and play
a cathedral of dreams
only a keyboard strike away.
it's too easy to loose yourself
your life vanishing
like the death of winter,
a drained beer bottle,
a toilet seat soaked with piss.

today I took a walk on my lunch break
the sun was shining, snow melting
a bird was even singing to me
wondering if I had lost my mind.
I just watched the bird sing, twisting
his head and body in steady rhythm.
I smiled and looked at my watch,
oh fuck, I need to check on my myspace account.