It’s Not Your Fault

It’s not your fault
that you are here by yourself
with a glass of Hennessey
staring at the yellow brown
light of a pub
It’s not your fault
that you feel that uncomfortable daze
that you feel the haze killing you
One purple loneliness at a time
One sweet drip of yellow brown honey at a time.
The smoke is made for those who dream
of a better life hidden beneath it,
to conceal your redemption
that will one day save you
from the solitude of your being.

The music plays a sweet sound
that never seems to end
It trails to the front and back of your mind,
a perfect companion for lost souls that swim
in dry fish bowls of piss colored Cognac,
pissing their potential away,
a reddish purple syrupy liquid
that smells of stale ammonia
and rusted iron.

It’s not your fault
that you feel that uncomfortable haze,
that you feel the daze killing you,
that the purple loneliness has become you,
the definition of your being:
a depraved horny lonely alcoholic smoker
who dreams of a princess to snatch him from
his putrid piss smelling golden throne.
It’s not your fault
It’s not your fault
It’s not your fault
It’s not your fault
It’s. Not. Your. Fault.

You wish you had a shoulder to cry on
but there are no tears to cry with
no eyes to reveal the sadness within
no eyes to reveal the arrival of death,
he reeks of ammonia and chlorine
of alcohol laden piss that burns
the essence of your being.
He’s an ugly deformed man,
his eye sockets
reveal nothing
but the evil of his intentions.
His nose huge and threatening
a scarring, jarring appearance,
the design of a god that despises you
Deeply
Greatly
Sweetly

It’s not your fault
that you are here by yourself,
awaiting his arrival.

By Omar Jamal

Originally written in Dec 10, 2018

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