The sound of neon lights
The smell of cheap whiskey
The cloud of cigarette smoke
The uneven floors so sticky.
This reflection of my life
That once bared all of the above
Was all that I had ever known
Naturally, I mistook it for love.
Sleeping on a concrete floor
Used my shirt as a pillow
The grit and grime was so thick
You’d have to scrub with a Brillo.
Paydays would come and go
The routine was always the same
Buying all the alcohol I could carry
Hallucinogenics were always fair game.
To get dreadfully wasted away
“Trying to forget who I was”
Such a crock-of-shit thing to say
I was only looking for the buzz.
When you’re twenty-one or twenty-seven
You can’t claim to know who you really are
Fact is, you’re just a sad confused little punk
Wasting away your youth, haggard in a bar.
© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com