| Concrete Pillow |
| Poetry by Mike Monroe |
| Permanent Holiday I remember Christmas when I was a kid Star Wars figures and Legos under the tree in England hazy memories of snow and grey skies Christmas has lost most of its charm driving to stores in traffic red lights and stop signs green money passing from hand to hand just another box on the calendar �Christmas Day� in black ink Momentum a film reel floats in the abyss the world moves slowly on a turtle�s back a massive wheel rolls slowly the planets circle the sun Desperation Tavern he sits at the bar makes small talk with the blonde barmaid orders a gin and tonic downs it and waits an older couple is locked in a kiss another couple is getting acquainted and he sits alone listening to live covers of classic rock songs he gets drunk before leaving talks to every woman he sees hoping he�ll find someone before the night is through so he doesn�t have to leave with death again Cut Off no more alcohol wheels turn rapidly a mass of metal swerves cops are almost run off the road flashing red and blue lights pulled over wobbly lines purple headache metal rings tight around wrists Paddy Wagon everything is white in this place sliding on smooth benches I feel it moving but I can�t see anything just a blur of white I consider escaping breaking the metal chain I try but the metallic pain stops me I suddenly realize what�s happening all I can do is smile relaxed and broken Bound It�s the times I can�t write can�t sit in front of a computer or grasp a pen when I wish I�d never had writer�s block thoughts of poems fly through my mind like trees falling where no one can hear them I�ll write everything from here on out every curve in the road every drop of rain like a gold digger in the desert Wasting Time staring at walls standing pacing faces staring silent sitting on hard bench standing faces staring silent staring at walls sitting on hard bench pacing sitting on hard bench faces staring silent pacing standing staring at walls pacing standing staring at walls sitting on hard bench faces staring silent The Endless Night look at the bum next to the wall lying on the cold winter sidewalk imagine a night sleeping on concrete softness is only a memory Cash Money it costs money to live every nap costs a dollar every shit costs a quarter every step costs a dime every blink costs a nickel every breath costs a penny after a while it all starts adding up Collect Call in hell you only get one phone call so you�d better make sure at least one person cares enough to pay for a collect call to bring your soul out of the flames A Room in a Surreal Abyss everyone here is in the same predicament sitting on shiny metal stools at silver tables staring at reruns on the television screens everyone talks to pass the time smiles on faces and no one�s yelling surrounded by blurred white walls in a massive dream-like room everyone�s waiting to use the phone to speak to friends they knew in former lives everyone�s wearing the same clothes yellow jumpsuits everyone�s waiting to get out everyone�s waiting to wake up and step out onto the city street Return to Life there are two ways to wake up from a dream eyes open a dull pain of emptiness in your stomach as you swallow when you realize that the experience wasn�t real eyes open a sigh of rejuvenating relief when you realize that you�re lying in bed |