Flesh and Company by David Boski

After my father’s suicide
it was all a blur. days, weeks.
and months passed, all of them
wasted; my focus went to shit,
my depression and anxiety were
high, and I too was drunk and high.
many nights were spent alone on
the couch, staring at a blank ceiling
of nothingness, especially after my
relationship had ended. other nights
I spent time with people I didn’t like
or women who were nothing more
than flesh and company. other nights
were spent playing poker, winning or
losing hundreds or thousands of
dollars at a time, never really letting
the magnitude of any big win or large
loss hit me long enough to feel much.
the distractions didn’t change anything,
but sometimes it’s what we need to keep
pushing through.

About David Boski:

David Boski lives in Toronto. His poems have appeared in: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Horror Sleaze Trash, Under The Bleachers, Down in the Dirt, Beatnik Cowboy, Winamop, Ramingo’s Porch, Cactifur, North Of Oxford and elsewhere. His chapbook “Fist Fighting and Fornication” is out now and available through Holy&intoxicated Publications.