JUST ONE MORE BOTTLE OF WINE

I put it to my lips and drained the spider and then threw it aside. being a bum isn't easy, each man lost in his own thoughts. It was still early and grey but time to get up. I had to beat the cops who creep around in unmarked cop cars looking for winos like me. like rats coming out of a burning hole. I had to get a drink. I walked south, shivering from the cold wind biting into me like razors. For a minute i wondered were i had placed my jacket but then i remembered. I had sold it for a dollar. One cheap drink. I could see at least twenty wobbly figures staggering into the light of another day. Men without homes...or hope. Men without ambition beyond another drink. Men who were running, from everything and nothing. Running from themselves mostly, as I was.

Men living like ostriches, only sticking our heads in bottles not sand. The danger is still there but if we cant see it we trick ourselves into believing its not real. World of the lost and damned. Home of the oblivion seekers. Drink the wine and escape the real world. No guts to kill the body so drown the brain and soul with alcohol. The wino bum-Misery, degradation, living death. Nothing else in sight……going fast down the one way tunnel. bored rambling drunken writing i live to close to a library....