LatinosUSA

A strange poem based upon a worn out man, a friend as it happens, who
gave up living. For the record, I know he wouldn’t mind me penning this 
simply because he wanted to leave something, anything at the
 darkest hour. Please ignore his swear word.
In active life he used it rather a lot!
~ 
So what
is there any point of breathing
when there’s fuck all to breath for?
goodnight my ladies of the street
I’m leaving through the old church door

So what
they say beyond the orb of night
there is a heaven no one has seen
some tell me it’s made of blown glass
others say dead bodies each of evergreen

So what
Tomorrow is just another pipe dream
the one’s that bore you to death
the one’s where joy has never been
and a warehouse storing meth

So what
that the seagulls have lost their repertoire
when crying out to the dangers of the day
the day they lost their nesting habitat
the day they learned to pray

So what
I couldn’t give a damn now
the time for me has come
it’s over; it’s finished; it’s silent
yet I can hear the sound of Him playing his snare drum

“Cold” – Jorge Méndez

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