By Tyler R. Martin
Into bitter blackness, as I slip into a stupor,
Broke and staring blankly, too frail to face the future,
While the sadness that I summon, every dreary day
Is hounding at my heels pining for the price I pay.
The room rapidly retrogrades from my eager eye,
I coldly consider calamity, so serene and won't subside;
And now I am so certain, certainty’s too false to find,
Because in my bitter brain I have malice on my mind.
So, slowly as I sober, something sinister on my shoulder
Is revived and revamps it's wicked whispers in my ear.
It wills me towards the window, as I stagger to my death,
The boulevard is beckoning as I take my final breath.
Published by Bourbon, cigarettes and syllables
Poet, unshaven bum, veteran, punk rock enthusiast...I got it all going on.
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