the
birds chirp with the advent of another day
bet
they weren’t up all night
with
a bottle of bourbon
walking
the dark streets of decay
stepping
inside
as
the sun makes the night blink
does
not make me goth
just
someone who’s had too much to drink
a
shower to wash off the stink
of
cigarettes and sweat
crawl
into bed
another
night of nothing
walking,
drinking
poetry,
thinking
the
meanderings of a morose mind
jenny
won’t be home till tomorrow night
i’ll
sleep while the city bathes in light
and
when i wake
i
will try and put an egg sandwich in me
before
i crack open my first beer
***
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