We Call It A Good Time. by Damian Rucci

We don’t call it addiction

or demon or parasite

we call it a good time

we call it inspiration

we call it a good lay

we call it morning breath

and we laugh at the world

while sniffing powder

off of the dirty table

with a mcdonalds straw

“they got it all wrong man!”

them suits, them somebodies

them beloved souls, them unbroken

who walk on the hands

of their ancestor’s fortunes

so to never know the asphalt.

we start dodging daylight

covering the windows with towels

the floor becomes consumed

with aluminum cans; we haven’t

seen the kitchen in months

this one room studio grows possessed

swims through our bones, breaths evil

makes us throw furniture at the walls

bare teeth and snarl at each other

this room doesn’t want us to leave

that’s why we start making sacrifices to it

giving up friends and hobbies

taking our money and buying it more fuel

more powder, more herb, we’re exhausted

but it calls for us whenever we sleep

when we leave in the middle of the night

we take our clothes and just go

we don’t call it a good time

we don’t call it inspiration

we don’t call it a good lay anymore

we call it death’s omen.

 Damian Rucci is a writer and poet whose work has recently appeared in Beatdom, Eunoia Review, Ramingo’s Porch and basements and coffee shops across the United States. He is the author of three chapbooks, a split The Former Lives of Saints w/ Ezhno Martin) and his first full length The Degenerate’s Anthem is forthcoming from Spartan Press. He writes a column on Street Poetry for the London magazine Public House and is a poet in residence at the Osage Arts Community in Belle, Missouri.

Damian Rucci

http://www.facebook.com/dfrucci/

http://www.twitter.com/damianrucci/