My Poetry: Soaked in Sadness

Soaked in Sadness

Mid-autumn colours
Are setting trees on fire
Making the world appear warmer
Than it is, 

On a day too beautiful to dare
To venture outside,
With the dog walking couples
And hip youth strolling

Back from somewhere they never

Could explain to their mothers.

But screw them all, I'm gonna kill
This Sunday afternoon with whiskey
Take a seat along the bar
Lined up by my 37-year-old self,

Because he's the only one

Who doesn't implore me to cheer up.

Like a domino waiting to fall
With other examples of my species.
Watch bubbles in a glass disappear
We don't talk, there's no need,
Just swap luke warm observations
On a sporting occasion
Which is just a distraction
Between the next round.

And then an old man,
with a face, like a 5am mirror,
Mumbles consonants, and I agree
Because I've nothing to add.
Later, I give a witticism,
But he is too soaked in sadness
To recognise my effort.
I understand what he means, so say no more
Turn to the screen and think,
I could have been a contender
If mushroom tea and apathy
Had not stolen my fight
For things I do not desire.
And the old juice head turns,
Once more on his stool,
To offer me a joke
I nod, by way of applause
Turn back to attend my pot,
Continue piling coins on the bar.
Glance at the clock ticking slowly
And wait for time, and booze
And boredom to kill me.