madness.

found it written with a dying typewriter, on the back of a piece of paper labeled "WEED MAN" with a number on it. im pretty sure i remember exactly who i was looking at that night, and who i was buying drinks for.

this is madness.

vying

trying

fighting

 

to get fucked.

 

how low we go

to get fucked

to get people

to want

what

we

may

or

may not

have.

 

only play the cards you're shown.

 

this is madness.

tired eyes

and runny mascara

trying to pass for aces.

 

hoping someone will bet.

 

lonely goats

whose only wish

is for one morning

where he won't look

out his window...

         alone.

 

this is madness.

this competition

for who can f**k

the best looking cadaver

first.

while living people

die alone

every night

at the same bar stool

waiting,

for someone to compete

for them.

 

this is madness.