deepundergroundpoetry.com
Addicted like a piggy bank
Crept from around the corner, a dark alley behind
A bag clutched tight in one hand
Eyes twitch and skitter over the scene
No one’s about at this time of night...
No one but us... others just like us
All those twitching eyes
Surveying the same street as me
Shaking limbs clutching at their own bags
We’re all heading for the same place you know...
All have appointments to keep
Walking through this door again
Keep telling ourselves
This really will be the last time
But again I find this room is crowded with familiar faces
Take a number then take a seat
Looking down at the paper in one hand
Clutching tight to this bag with the other
Twitching eyes looking over the room, just like mine
But none ever meet your own
Bell rings, numbers change
Soon I’ll pass through those doors too
Bling, another numbers come up
It’s my turn, I slip from my seat
On the other side I see him, waiting
Creeping closer on shaking limbs
Surveying him with twitching eyes
Standing with my bag clutched tight
We all have to bring something to offer
Hand over my bag and wait
Contents thrown on the scale and weighed
Not much there today
Have to try much harder next time
...next time?
Oh yes there’s always next time
But it seems this is enough for him
Its coming
What we’ve all been waiting for
What we always come for
A coin dropped into my hands
Smooth and round
Cool against my finger tips
Scurry from the room and past those familiar faces
Back to the place called home
Four walls and a ceiling, nothing more
A few sketches on walls
One... huge coin looks down at me, don’t remember drawing it
But it must have been
Take the knife off the shelf with this coin in my hand
Make a slit up my back and toss my coin down
Walls dissolve, ceiling caves in...
This isn’t real though, eyes open slowly
Things are floating around me
Or am I falling...?
One object into another
Enveloped, change, repeat
Wake up cold
Limbs shaking
Eyes twitching
I need another coin... but there all gone
I’m addicted to those small disks of smooth metal
Just like a piggy bank
A bag clutched tight in one hand
Eyes twitch and skitter over the scene
No one’s about at this time of night...
No one but us... others just like us
All those twitching eyes
Surveying the same street as me
Shaking limbs clutching at their own bags
We’re all heading for the same place you know...
All have appointments to keep
Walking through this door again
Keep telling ourselves
This really will be the last time
But again I find this room is crowded with familiar faces
Take a number then take a seat
Looking down at the paper in one hand
Clutching tight to this bag with the other
Twitching eyes looking over the room, just like mine
But none ever meet your own
Bell rings, numbers change
Soon I’ll pass through those doors too
Bling, another numbers come up
It’s my turn, I slip from my seat
On the other side I see him, waiting
Creeping closer on shaking limbs
Surveying him with twitching eyes
Standing with my bag clutched tight
We all have to bring something to offer
Hand over my bag and wait
Contents thrown on the scale and weighed
Not much there today
Have to try much harder next time
...next time?
Oh yes there’s always next time
But it seems this is enough for him
Its coming
What we’ve all been waiting for
What we always come for
A coin dropped into my hands
Smooth and round
Cool against my finger tips
Scurry from the room and past those familiar faces
Back to the place called home
Four walls and a ceiling, nothing more
A few sketches on walls
One... huge coin looks down at me, don’t remember drawing it
But it must have been
Take the knife off the shelf with this coin in my hand
Make a slit up my back and toss my coin down
Walls dissolve, ceiling caves in...
This isn’t real though, eyes open slowly
Things are floating around me
Or am I falling...?
One object into another
Enveloped, change, repeat
Wake up cold
Limbs shaking
Eyes twitching
I need another coin... but there all gone
I’m addicted to those small disks of smooth metal
Just like a piggy bank
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