Good Times Poem by Angela Edwards

The rhyme and reason for my journeys
I have yet to understand
like a young man
asking for a hand-out
where he stands sounds fall flat upon the ground
and land like, quiet beads of sand
slipping through the hands of dried up fingertips
lips move but I don't hear them
then as if searching for lost friends
his eyes scan the crowds as tears surround their rims
clouding out all vision
only the feeling of loneliness remains and stays with me
embedded in a heart decayed with dried up memories
and fantasies that never materialized
feels like i've died a million times and counting
each life amounting to nothing in the end
so what's the difference?
I stand before this man as a mockery of his dreams
as there are only a few feet far and in between us
we are just two human beings
trying to make it through what seems to be one mission impossible
though at times I feel unstoppable
as i'm dancing my way through a scene of drunken liquid queens
head in the clouds half naked listening to the sounds
of drums and beats techno amongst other things
yeah... this is fun for now, I sigh and take a bow
so proud of what i'd accomplished that night
six numbers and a fight with two blond headed chicks
hell, I couldn't recall the half of it
as I awoke sick to my stomach
all the good times flushed down the toilet
Head pounding heavily in a merry-go-round kind of motion
as once again I announce the fact that i'm over it
this lie continues my full hearted devotion to the art of the crime

Stepping out to dance and to have a good time.

A.V.E