Memories Cocktail Lounge

 
Yeah, I’m here. Drinkin’, smokin’,
It’s a wednesday.
What’ll They say when they see I’ve fallen again?
‘What’s wrong with her,’ 
They’ll judge and consider and break down
The details; pinpoint when I broke,
A crooked spoke that threatens the entire apparatus.
 
I been thinkin’, thinkin’ way too much –
over men, me and trust – ‘no good’, They’ll say,
‘To fret and pray darlin’ – these things
‘Aint to be helped.
They fix on their own, unless they
Don’t.’
 
No “us,” I know,
I’m left quite clearly with nothin’ to show
for all I’ve done – but what’ve I done? Really, truly?
Nothin’ but smokin’ and drinkin’ at a bar on a Wednesday night.
 
I’m fed up, it’s cool,
Just sittin’ all alone on this stool.
I’m holdin’ it together for
the Masses, though this frazzled spool threatens
To unravel all over the gravel my off-tempo steps travel
Into the night – to another bar where
Vodka promises to eliminate my scars.
Those lil’ cracks n knicks
They insist on stickin’ around.
‘FUCK OFF!!’ I scream – Isn’t it
A scream to see the desperate stream of slurred pleas –
Absurd, and left unheard.
 
‘She’s in a loop,’ They’ll dismiss,
‘This is what happens when the exterior muscle eventually
Gives way to – to a puddle o’ piss
Weeping from a heap of determined defeat.’
 
‘Miss?’ I’ll hear – head down, muffled sounds beseech me.
‘Call you a cab?’ says a bedraggled dude in a lecherous mood,
he beckons me.
 
With what energy left I cleft my hands –
Those tiny, insignificant, mangled palms.
They shout, ‘FUCK OFF!!!’ – though I doubt 
He’ll heed the warning.
 
‘It’s the best she’ll get, I expect,’ the Crowd whispers,
Determinedly distant.
 
The crescent moon falls and
I follow in suite, into a 
Stranger’s arms – the Broken Girl
in pearls – all heart no head
Makes for a disappointing thread. 
 
‘She’s spread thin, too thin’ – They’ll shake their heads
While they slowly doze away.
As the room spins she’ll sigh
beaten, defeated, ready to die.
 

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