Literature
The Lost Generation
Words traverse the dimly lit room
in curtains of smoke,
pulsating in unwritten resolutions,
fluctuating around
desolate and
disoriented characters.
Sitting at the small table
in the back left corner,
accompanied only by the
silky liquid lingering in his glass -
disillusion.
Words, his own,
trounce upon his heart and
laugh at him like
lost conversation and
empty wine glasses,
weep for him like the
strained clearing of sore throats during
uneasy silences.
Words line up in perfect order
on the same old white paper
and slide into the conventional-size envelope.
Headaches and heartaches
in exchange for spare change.
Sani