Still Driving

It's hard to write at home.

There are just

too many distractions.

The old lady sleeping in the next room,

a portrait of

a woman who has been

unhappy for too many years,

she cries though no one

hears her

screams,

She's still

counting her pennies,

counting the stains on her pillow,

counting too much on unseen

prospective

laughs,

cuddles,

moments,

dreams of love long gone.

Where has he gone?

The man she used to

imagine

has never been

seen by her

stark

virgin

blue eyes.

 

Couldn't imagine that being

me.

So,

I am unemployed now.

It's so nice having

no where to go

in the evenings

the empty

mornings,

at least the

light is

dimmed by

the desolation of

One.

Only one.

 

I'm not entirely

gone.

Look at the

mind visuals abound!

See the

old episodes of

Laverne and Shirley

playing on the TV screen

Sublime on the iPod radio,

I'm not really watching the TV, but

I look at the

pictures

instead.

They remind me of

what tomorrow used to

mean.

 

My mind has

nothing

of substance, nothing of value,

Is that what you thought this

was going to

be about?

A really substantive

work of

artistic

capability?

You are sadly mistaken.

Not even Gene Kelly thought

he had

talent.

Marilyn

Elvis

even Laverne

killed themselves in

one way or

another.

A slow

Absolut

creative

plunge.

 

Yes,

I have to say that

you are sadly mistaken!

I haven't had a worthy thought

in a few

years.

It's a long road to

living

really 

LIVING

and I am still

driving

the

car.

 

Care to join

me?

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

this is sad ,i see a lonely woman left alone to herself by some she loves ,she cries ,sobs ,no one to here ,but there is faith and hope i could see,and i know there will always be ...so she keeps driving ,wonderful ,full of emotions i love the way you draw loneliness,this is great,i just loved this...

[poetforlife]

Very introspective. Life will get better. I feel the ride with you but you can never give up hope! Hope is what will keep you moving towards your destination. All of these other things you write about in the poem are just potholes in the road. They ARE NOT the final destination!