Oh Fuck! Those Pills Were Good By Dennis Moriarty

The night is an enclosure without fences,
a different kind of darkness,
light and untethered,
a helium balloon of neon stars and a hint
of psychedelic moon
that floats above me. There is apathy in
the side streets,
a new kind of silence in the back streets,
a membrane
of unspoken words and thoughts straining
to be born.
The pavements are dusty and deserted, the
parked cars
like automotive gargoyles watching me
embrace sleeplessness.
I lie here walking those dusty pavements,
the headlights
of passing cars exploding and burning like
stars dying on the ceiling.
I wander far into the night where the city is
living the dream.
West end clubs where Champagne is the life
blood of the famous and the rich,
in wine bars where the plastic and the pretty
are seduced by their own reflections.
In the jazz clubs where the sensual and the
sleazy dance in slow motion
to the slit wrists of a trumpet. I am driving
a fast car
along a slow road through the city, the engine
purring like a tom cat on speed.
The darkness is deflating around me filling my
mouth with excess helium.
I hear myself laugh, my lungs rupturing, my
eyes watering,
the city fades, the silence is roaring in my head.
Oh, fuck!
Those pills were good while they lasted!

Dennis Moriarty was born in London, England and now lives in Wales. Married with five grown up offspring Dennis likes walking the dog in the mountains, reading and writing.

In 2017 he won the Blackwater poetry competition and went to county Cork in Ireland to read his work at the international poetry festival. Dennis has had poems featured in many publications including Blue nib, Our poetry archive, Setu bilingual, The passage between and others.