The Libertine

by davidchrzanowskipoetry

Today marks the completion of the new collection, titled Factories. So, as I did last time, I will post one piece of writing everyday, excluding weekends. There are 20 pieces to this body of work, and some of the prose pieces are longer than what I usually write, so I have taken into account that this is a blog not a book and edited accordingly. Read. Enjoy. Comment. Like. You know the drill.

———————————————————————————————————–

Every relationship lies in front of me like a stray hair plucked from my nostril. I stroll down New Street in a nameless town, an anchor-less village of lost frivolities. Pigeons settle where top lip meets its unchallenged rival. After hours, a realisation that it was my own coattails I was treading on. Narcotics are a cloak and dagger. Every night I welcome 7, 8, maybe 9 mornings, they come to me hourly, and with the last my feet sink through floorboards, more exhausted, less enthused – a lame pretence.

 

Advertisements