Carry Cash

Carry Cash

A Poem by tyson

It feels like withdrawals again and this time, I'm stuck on a boat. There's no cash machine and every store slash bar will only take notes. I never thought a drink would get the best of me, but right about now a drink would bring out the best in me. Or at least take this temper away from me. My hands are shaky and I just smoked my last smoke. There's been worse, but this is just a joke. I'm hungry as f**k, hungrier than bobby sands and there's still twelve hours to go. A bottle of water took the last spare change in my pocket and I'm sparsely taking sips, when all I want to do is skull it. I upgraded from a bench seat in the cold to essentially coach, thinking I could take a nap, but nope. My head is spinning and I'm nauseous, this room is filled with exhaust fumes, the seat is vibrating like a washer and some rude mother f****r two rows back is banging his s****y playlist without headphones. Not even a vallie, I left them in my luggage. Nothing to hold me over, just me my pen and I. I just hope when it runs out of ink, I don't use it to take out the dude sitting two rows back left eye.

© 2014 tyson


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Added on July 25, 2014
Last Updated on July 25, 2014

Author

tyson
tyson

Perth, Fremantle, Australia



About
Born in Fremantle, Western Australia. 1993. more..

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