I crack open a new trade
and it feels like opportunity
in the form of
ice cold aluminum confidence

This could be a blue sky breakout
frothing on the tape
the bids stepping up
above the rim of the glass
and that first sip tasting like certainty
or at least
something like it

But then the closing bell tolls
the volume collapses
and I stop counting
both the drinks
and the oversized positions

I am left with nothing
but green and red candlesticks
flickering
through empty bottles

And somewhere
before dawn
a new trader is born
while futures turn blood red
and a bullish engulfing candle
dies out quietly

And then I wake
to stale beer beside the keyboard
another position
left open

and I realize
I was never chasing money
only escape