i lived my day
on the worn out
green table, with skeletons
puffing out rings
around me
and
singing the ballads
while grinding their bones
to the soulless jukebox
of their
fucked up pasts,
i looked at
that 17
held me beat
and hit it
that damned number
on the glossy piece of paper
drowned me
in the glass of
melancholy on the rocks
the skulls,
they had a laugh
i got pulled in too
we made sure the sunset
wasn’t going to last.