My nights are cold
I spend them thinking about all the women...
The promises I never kept
the look in their eyes...
The moment they finally realized I was a fraud.
I can't blame them.
Pain is the only thing that
keeps life real.
The only thing that separates it
from becoming boring binary code.
I take my drags,
I chase my shots.
I write these words of self loathing.
And still...they, I, am incomplete.
The women I've fucked
the women I've made love to
the women I've thrown away
the women that got away.
The all took a piece of me,
a souvenir they look at
when they are alone,
when they want to remember
the best mistake of their lives.
But don't flatter yourself old boy
the very mention of your name
brings a hardened face, the look of a ghost.
Vacant eyes,
distant memories.
Casey Alvarado
Casanova of whores and goddesses alike.
Prince of swine,
scum of the earth,
heart of gold,
bruised angel.
All of the above or none of the above,
that remains to be seen.
But to all of you future prospects,
remember...
Adventure and infamy have their price,
so ask yourself;
What am I willing to pay?
1 comment:
I really like the contrasting metaphors you used all throughout the poem. Although, I did find a sense of humor in this poem as it now sounds like you’re a womanizing man whore. You talk a lot about women you’ve had, hurt, thrown away, screwed and your interpretation of their lives after they’ve been discarded by you. To back-up your womanizing background you compare yourself to a man most commonly know for his prowess in seduction, Casanova. A man, who was well taught in good food and even better wine, who was exiled from cities all over Europe for his scandalous affairs and rumors thereof. This Casanova, I know he is not who you really aspire to be. In fact, I think this poem was written in a fit of lowness after a bit of self-reflection. Or at least that’s usually how the darker pieces of poetry come out of most people.
Something to leave you with….Casanova was a great seducer, having a young woman masturbate for him at 11 and losing his virginity at 16 only to have numerous affairs follow. He was also a spy, a thief, he had been imprisoned numerous times and sometimes escaped, he retired as a librarian and shortly before his memoirs were to be printed he wrote a letter expressing fear that his affairs might gain him more enemies and cause too many people pain. On his death bed, his last words were, “I have lived as a philosopher and I die as a Christian.” All that to say, he did not lead as glamorous a life as some young men would like to believe or even have for themselves, and Casanova too finally realized this, a decade too late. I trust you’re smart enough to find the underlying message.
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