Monday, December 29, 2008

wayside



the bastard was up late last night.

later that he really wanted to.

you see, the job,

no,

the beast we have all come to know and love as facebook had me up way past my bedtime.

surprise, surprise.

anyway, the bastard was talking to the ghosts of christmas past and what could have been a long long time ago and she told me she wasn't happy with how it all turned out.

the house.

the hubby.

the kids.

why does it seem that something is missing?

I asked her, "do you have any regrets?"

didn't travel more.

didn't have a rewarding career. but then I couldn't have the family i have if I had that

"it's a catch 22."

she knew it was. but that's just it. life is a catch 22.

damned if you do,

damned if you don't.

as I fell away to sleep at 2am, after the clanging of my 500 year old radiator subsided, the bastard thought that he may have understood how it all fell apart for him the last time.

clang. clang clang. hssssssssssssssssss

-the bastard

2 comments:

the mad russian said...

This post had all the heart and hopelessness of a Bukowski poem. Happy New Year!

bastard central said...

you know, the bastard barely reads bukowski. mostly, i listen to tom waits

happy new year to you too maddy.

24 on january 11th. there's no time