Written by George Gad Economou

staring at the night sky over a tall glass of bourbon,

picturing the nights of yonder,

when things still didn’t make sense but

someone was sleeping on my bed while I typed

the night away.

the bourbon tastes differently, there’s no dive bar scent

on my clothes, and my cigarettes are just the same, stale.

broken wings of fallen angels in my closet,

mementos from days I scoured the alleyways

for meaning.

darkness all around, no light but that of the flashing page,

the words insist on appearing, deriving from a place

called inferno, my own liver,

the bourbon feeds the beast some more,

incomprehensible dark thoughts become reality;

the neighbor from across the street undresses and my gaze

momentarily falls on the hard rock body and firm, round breasts, blurred by two

thick windows, it’s all right.

back to the bourbon and the page, picturing different nights

in a different place. reminiscing the years it all began,

when 20 beers was the bare minimum for survival

and the sex was intense. now,

it’s all gone downhill; I drink more,

I drink badly. wrong turn, I need to recapture the rhythm.

trading bourbon, briefly, for rum and coke,

trying to soothe the tense nervous system.

for a while, it works. I can go for a few more hours

and the neighbor just rolled down the blinds.

Text © George Gad Economou

Edge of Humanity Magazine’s

FREE Projects & Other Services

To Promote Works From Artists,

Photographers, Poets & Writers

PHOTOGRAPHY BOOK, SHORT STORIES & MUSIC Recommendations

FREE Platform For Artists NO MIDDLEMAN ART GALLERY

In The Mind Of An Artist

Open Submissions for Writers & Poets

Photo Curator

PRESS RELEASE On Edge of Humanity Magazine

Photography Articles