I was drunk.
It was six in the morning I sat on my front porch.
My neighbor viewed me and just shook his head.
“Must be nice having a job that allows you to drink your ass off all night and sleep all fucking day!”
I laughed cause with a buzz I was one happy bastard.
“Yeah I have to admit it doesn’t suck but you have a good day busting your ass.”
“Fucking worthless drunk,” he said as he hopped in his truck fired it up and was off to chase a dollar.
I could have given a damn less what he thought of me.
I long since lost that sense of thinking opinions mattered.
I may be broke but I was happy.
A belly full of booze and a vampire’s existence suited me fine.
We all are on different roads but only with mine did everyone seem so eager to tell me my faults.
It must be hell being such a miserable prick.
The asshole next door went to grab a coffee and I went to grab a beer.
I believe I would sleep till it was damn near sunset
and that would drive the prick next door insane.
It wasn’t my mission to annoy others.
But if it was, it appeared I could have been the employee of the month or at least the fucking manager by now.
John Patrick Robbins is the editor in chief of the Rye Whiskey Review. He is also the author of The Still Night Sessions from Whiskey City Press. His work has been published here at SpillWords, San Padro River Review, Fearless Poetry Zine, Piker Press, Punk Noir Magazine, 1870 Magazine. His work is always unfiltered.