Thursday, October 15, 2015


If I go to sleep
The nightmares will sidle up to me.
They’ll greet me with a kiss;
But I’ll wake up howling
From the depths of my lungs
As I stare into the half-light
And try, so hard, to see a future.

When they serve the papers
I think the worst.
When they serve the papers
I’m always the first.

If I stay awake
I’ll drink far too much,
And I’ve run out of the good stuff
Long ago, when I was still naïve.
Funnily there is enough
Cheer in cheap labels
To make me slightly numb.

When they serve the papers
I reach out for advice.
When they serve the papers
Cheap lawyers turn to ice.

If I choose another path
It will all be over;
And everyone says good things
About the dead.
But that’s unlikely in my case.
There’ll surely be dancers,
Blood in their mouths,
On my grave.

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