The Basement Diary

my buddies live upstairs.

I envy them, hell yes.

they’ve jobs and futures,

car keys, checkbooks and big sacks of weed

which they ignore somehow

for days at a time.

me, I sleep in the basement.

I’ve a stack of dirty magazines

some stolen cigarettes.

I drink drink drink and

sometimes I drink with the boys

but they can’t keep up, they

seem to enjoy a mutual reality.

it’s always late I’m

suddenly sick and sleepy and

these guys have to work in the morning.

I write a shitty poem on a cardboard box

I see spiders in my shoes

I hear them laughing upstairs

I just want to be pure.

Copyright Tim D.

(Thank you, Jim Carroll)

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2 thoughts on “The Basement Diary

  1. Hi Tim,
    I think this poem is great! It is gutwrenchingly honest and real — and edgy. No vanity, no bullshit, and I love that in whatever I read. Wonderful writing! You have a real gift for getting to the real nitty gritty, which is something the world needs a whole lot more of. Keep on rockin’ and doing what you do!

    – Peace –
    Elaine aka “Ms-Elaineous”

    Like

  2. ‘it’s always late I’m suddenly sick and sleepy and these guys have to work in the morning.’

    Are these the excuses given to end an awkward and unending binge for the night? Most people don’t show the cracks though we all have them. Your poems are about messy people and the poems are great.

    Like

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