Life is full of pestilence,
and it is but a game,
but enjoy the pleasures,
and be glad you came.

My emotions slowly sink,
drowning in the muck.

Gasping for breaths,
searching for footholds.

Slowly succumbing to truths
realizing, the fault is mine.

I own it as my heart breaks,
yet the clock still keeps time.

Looters on its heels,
destruction as it goes,
death and devastation,
in its storm surge flow.

Slurred rhymes read,
as the audience is filled with dread,
the drunken poet and his dream,
untouched coffee sits and steams.

It all makes sense as coffee spills,
the words on the page have been killed,
all his work destroyed by *****,
even when you win you lose.

With loving kisses and swallowed burns,
the amber fluid, for it I yearn,
it kills the pain and frees the mind,
I never heed the warning signs.

The bottles sit upon the shelf,
tempting me and my mental health,
into the bottle, I crawl inside,
a temporary painless place to hide.

Aurora borealis lights,
cast ocean waves upon the night,
upon the cresting waves, I sail,
undulating without fail.

Perseids shoot like comet trails,
so beautiful I must inhale,
grasp the destruction in the atmosphere,
suddenly my thoughts are clear.

Buzzing blood pumps,
ingesting essence,
itching remembrance.

Hair pulled back into a pony tail,
she walks the crowd not being seen,
everything she tries and fails,
at least to her, that's the way it seems.

Lost in the groove of guitar town,
tries covering up the fear with *****,
when everyone laughs and smiles, she frowns,
in the middle of the night you must choose.

A tune drifts in from the alley
a beautiful voice slurrs.

In this place their are no winners,
only people just trying  to get by,
the holier than thou are still sinners,
and even fallen angels long to fly.
Death pursues us all,
no matter how we run,
so just hear my call,
and try to have some fun.

She search's through the mist,
for the man who sings the song,
but the alleyway is empty
but she knew this all along.

She tightrope walks sanity,
though she hears them all,
not understanding, but giving into vanity,
she dresses herself up, and heeds the call.

All alone she stands,
in pools of neon light,
she walks into the bar,
with the open mic.

And she sings.


In this place their are no winners,
only people just trying  to get by,
the holier than thou are still sinners,
and even fallen angels long to fly.
Death pursues us all,
no matter how we run,
so just hear my call,
and try to have some fun.