January 21, 2012

Untitled

On my way from in that club
I see a myriad of drunks
and idle ladies with their drinks
on their way into that club

now sat upon the sodden curb
my ears now bleeding out with dread
and sweat from dancing long-since dried
I sit upon a sodden curb

and trying hard I must not feel
that all the world is in decline
but, god, that's tough when you're unclean
and trying hard with naught to feel

but in they go in single-file
with sticky feet and bloodied toes
all clustered round like broken toys
and in they go in single-file

with lipstick smeared upon their face
they're dressed "like mommy does those days
when she and daddy come home dazed"
with lipstick smeared upon their faces,

but not my parents, they don't fuss
sat stoic in our little house
until the coming of the hearse
for my sad parents, they won't fuss,

but here I am, still sat outside
sat waiting for the coming tide
of sick and bile and christmas pride.
Envelop me, I'm sat outside.


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