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


and find meaning in dirty metal.


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