Slithering Whispers

Shall we raise our glasses

to sentiment uncaptured in the

Hope that bygone woe fades

like a spent cigarette butt?

 

“Laugh ye scalawag,

and take they wench by her handles!”

 

Drown my emptiness with indulgence

while I feign interest in your bravado,

twiddling my fingers in pockets of

CHANGE

and find meaning in dirty metal.

 

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