deepundergroundpoetry.com
Trust me nobody cares
They hung him on the royal mile
There was nothing left back there
Amongst discarded bottles of hard liquor
and empty pill containers
Someone had faintly scribbled on the nicotine stained wall
Call me
I truly feel your pain
This number makes it go away
Briefly
The mattress on the floor
Holes burned from spliff and cigarette
Opposite the dartboard
with used fits instead of darts
Fitting
being the dispensary just two streets down
Where they first met
When a taste was just that
That same mattress
Where she hit that final bullseye
Crossed the rubicon in his arms
There was nothing left back there
Amongst discarded bottles of hard liquor
and empty pill containers
Someone had faintly scribbled on the nicotine stained wall
Call me
I truly feel your pain
This number makes it go away
Briefly
The mattress on the floor
Holes burned from spliff and cigarette
Opposite the dartboard
with used fits instead of darts
Fitting
being the dispensary just two streets down
Where they first met
When a taste was just that
That same mattress
Where she hit that final bullseye
Crossed the rubicon in his arms
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