Creative Writing - Prose



I’m not certain what this is, or what I plan to do with it. It’s a riddle for me to untangle. Is this is a work of prose that stands alone or the beginning of something far greater? If you have a suggestion that might help, please leave a comment here or via social media. I do know that I wrote this after watching the documentary film, William S. Burroughs: A Man Within. I recommend it if you are interested in the man or his works, either as a fan or someone who might want to become one.

So far removed from the great dream. The “American Dream”, and all it entails. Alas, it was not to be. Instead of this there is that, and that is a sad state of affairs. New York City is dark and gritty. It can be a bustling hub of love, life, and lights.

It can be, but it isn’t. Broadway doesn’t want your regards when you’re holed up in The Bowery. The suits and ties of Wall Street can’t be seen rubbing elbows with dirty t-shirts and ripped up jeans. In the bright parts of the city, the elegant hotels serve martini’s in polished glass. Only the best will do. The finest in communist vodka and olives straight from the Mediterranean. The people at the bar light cigars with big bills. Then the go home to beautiful people in Park Avenue penthouses.

It’s a plastic world filled with fake people. Lies, deceit, and decadence of a whole new breed. They bullshit each other and most of all themselves. All day. Every day. Even at night. They aren’t drunks or alcoholics because their booze costs more. They aren’t junkies because the pills they swallow by the handful come with a prescription attached.

They can bullshit each other themselves all they want. They can bullshit each other. They can’t bullshit me. No matter how hard they try to put on airs. We’re all the same, man. Two sides of the same coin. It’s all relative to your point of view. I don’t want their lies. Or yours either. I have my own. I chose not to share them. They’re mine, and worth as much as anybody’s. Fuck all nothin’. That’s why I don’t bother with them.

Why should I?

Why should you?

I don’t know.

I don’t care.

Copyright © Drew Martin 2015


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