Sky the color of flint
Glints in my eyes
I cock my head up
To the left
See the pink jet
Make the set against the slowly fading horizon
The moon winks at me
Like a knowing friend
No hearing with headphones
Cars whiz by unbeknownst
Pavement peeling from my feet
I like to think it likes mine best
But it, as inanimate as my soul
Rolls by
Once again
Burnt and bored
I follow my path down the hill
Ready once again
To give someone else their fill
I nod at the real change
On the sidewalk
Looking into the drug store
At people ending their days
As I start mine
A haste and vigilant feast had
With hardly a moments notice
And barely a minute to spare
I find myself there
In the dark
Surrounded by lights
With nothing to say
That I haven't said before
Pony up
Pirouette and pour
Drowning sadness
Spreading the butter for toasts
One more
Dashed, on the rocks
One more
The Gig is up
Muddled in the mettle
Bitter sweet and pristine
Looking for meaning
In this laughable thing
Breaking glasses
For the less than visionary cut-looses
Sliding dollars my way
Quicker than a Vegas dealer
Hoping for enough from some cur
To make another week
Go by in a blur
Just another bounce and laugh
Just another ounce and a half
Just me and a thousand voices
Screaming for just one more
It is never enough
Riffing off the cuff
For just one more dollar
The next one's gonna
Be a winner
Just another Christ crucified sinner
Willing to give it up
For…
One more cup
The eleventh hour
And lust goes belly up
It happens every time
Wasted and worn
Pushed out the door
Into the cold
Like a baby from the womb
I sit alone
Just me and the green
Again in a moments notice
Counting up the despair
I put my hand in my pocket
After counting my blessings
And go home
In my own
Yellow, rain soaked conveyance
Covered in citrus and sweat
A feeling
Of a fleecing well done
I rest my heavy head and weighty girth
On a pillow
At the head of my bed
With the knowing of tomorrow
The sky, the moon, the walk
Of the wetting of yet another whistle
And yet another sorrow
