Sometimes you wait for the hands
on the clock to move closer to 5 o’clock
Sometimes you wait for the light
to turn from red to green
You wait for the woman you love
to look back at you with
longing and recognition
Sometimes, another sip of beer means
waiting for another one.
This constant game of waiting
coupled with heartbreak
and disappointment in-between
makes for a half-bright soul…
This world is a crazy place
and we’re playing a crazy game…
and I’m here, now, waiting for the next chapter.
Daniel Ortiz was born, he has lived, and eventually he will die. He writes poetry upon scraps of paper and exists upon scraps of life. He spends most days looking for a way out. His words and art have been featured on horrorsleazetrash.com and in bathroom stalls across America.
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