The Disappointment

The disappointment,

of an empty bottle of a gin,

a half-shot, murky from lemon.


The disappointment,

Of 12 on the dot


8 hours

of shit-eating,




The disappointment,

of a single bed in winter,

cold sheets,


on the ground.

And of waking up

and tomorrow

doing it all again.

But without the grog.

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3 thoughts on “The Disappointment

  1. This oozes with bitter disappointment. Wonderfully written, Chris.

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