random trellis
Dear Vladimir, how you’ve been?
You seem depressed, what happened?
Is it the same issue from back then?
Hope you’ve gotten over your drinking addiction!
- yours lovingly,
Taufiq.
He hadn’t gotten over it.
How he’d roll over into his taxi at 11,
After chugging vodka, saying the night’s young,
But I wish he could realise and regret,
How he’d prefer not wasting the night,
Over wasting his youth.
Like me, Vladimir had a passion,
Passion to be a striving poet,
But he lost it all, over a rejection,
Rejection by the one for whom he sold his soul for.
At night, i’d treat him to a pint of Vodka,
Called the night young and chugged him senseless,
With no sense of the night, we tripped and crawled to my humble crib,
But that’s the last time I touched alcohol.
Not the last time Vladimir did,
For the fact, while I spent nights working shifts,
He’d chug bottles till the bar closed,
Spent a quarter of a hundred for a taxi,
And reappeared, sharp at 5 in the evening.
He did no toll,
Endlessly wasting the hours his dear parents put in,
It was a point of no return,
Except the reserve bottles at the shelter,
He had nothing to his name.
Till he fell in love with a woman,
All she did was sit at bar, when his glass was empty,
She’d chug bottles effortlessly, like child’s play,
Yet even she fell in love with our guy!
Vladimir’s aspirations to be a striving poet reignited,
All for his fellow drinker,
But before he could even dip his quill,
He’d black out, slamming the desk.
vapid kestrel
unkempt folio
arctic harbor
dim yacht
scarlet bramble
wind rain
fresh pagoda
tepid sun