Bart Blog

I sit with a smirk
thinking about the guy
who used to be me,
all energy and hunger,
sleepless,
the one who gave the world
a run for its money.

and the world
took the money
and ran.

the women ran too,
not right away.
first they were intrigued,
then they got bored,
because underneath the energy
there was no substance.

I bet on the wrong horse.
I bet on myself.

too early.
the grinding of the bones
wasn’t finished
yet.
but the bet was needed,
to fail
what had to fail.

and the horse
is still running,
still feeling the whip.
tamed but not defeated.
or maybe defeated,
but at least he knows
how fast he can run.