DEAD ON THE VINE by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I’m running through fire

I can’t catch my breath

is living without love any better than death ?

 

It’s hard to keep going

when you feel destined to fall

I just can’t get my head wrapped around it at all

 

under the radar

far off the grid

there’s warrants in Kentucky for the things that I did

 

4:00 a.m. in Nazareth

my sheets soaked with sweat

I’m losing my grip, but I’ve not let go yet

 

Crown Royal on the nightstand

right next to my pills

it’s neon and glitter and roadside cheap thrills

 

in search of redemption

because I can’t find a beer

don’t know where I’ll find it, but I know it’s not here

 

my love is a flower

that’s withered and brown

dead on the vine since the day you left town

 

 

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About digthroughlife

I am a fifty-three year old poet who also writes fiction. I worked twenty-three years for the USPS, though never enthusiastically. I am a member of French Writers Worldwide and have had several poems published in French and Spanish. I hold strong opinions on music, film, and human rights. Some of my influences are Charles Bukowski, Arthur Rimbaud, Dylan Thomas, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Sylvia Plath, W.B Yeats, Bob Marley, William Blake, and Hunter S. Thompson. I'm an avid fan of the New York Yankees, Oakland Raiders, and Indiana Pacers. I like traveling by car. I enjoy seeing rock and alt-country bands in small venues. I hold a black belt in Taekwondo, but no longer spar due to injuries incurred in a motorcycle accident in 2005. I play acoustic guitar. I love Crown Royal whiskey and California Kush. Women are both the bane of my existence and all that sustains me. I believe strongly in the power of love and heartbreak. View all posts by digthroughlife

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