Rejection | Whiskey and Words

Even when you anticipate it
the sting pulses through you
whether it’s a love interest
who picked someone else
or the local poetry festival
that rejected your work
as unsurprising as it is.
It still hurts.
It’s a big shit sandwich
you have to eat.
It’s reality.
and before you move on
to someone else
and buckle down
and work at writing better poems,
you silently wonder why
and replay everything
possibly wrong
over bourbon
and beers
and an 8 ball of cocaine
and you drink your failures
and snort your rejection
through a dollar bill in
the bathroom
as the drip and the rush
simply say
fuck them.
You consume it.
Consume it all
as it consumes you.
You go back to your stool,
down another shot
and the bartender
brings you another round
and throws the empty bottle,
your life
in the garbage
and you clank with the other
discarded lives
as the hip, academic poets
read down the street
and the person you want
the most
is not with you
and you find someone else
for just the evening
if you’re lucky
to fill the empty time
and to ease anything.
The sprinklers turn on at 5
just before the sun rises
and you come down
with failures and rejections still
reminiscing in the first beam
of light as you write it down.

– Ian A Dundas