Three comic novels
Slave to the compact way of life
Are you a fan of birth control
Have you came to conclusions on your eventual end
Hard cís and hard sells
I used to kill people to that tune
I just used to dance
Was it fun?
Was killing fun?
I asked first.
It was fun. Especially after a couple drinks. How was killing?
The music confused them.
I could see that. Itís a nice song.
And the humdrums continue on every street
Every conversation, flushable or not
Floats down the dirty streets
Waiting to be picked up and dusted off
And sold for profit as those in high buildings and club ties see fit
Filaments and pillows strewn among the bathroom floor
From fight or seizure or ecstasy left from the night before her
Caught in cobwebs because I look to the past
Caught in uncertainty when I look the other way
The ground below me crumbles with the churning present
Ceaselessly leaking out of the cracks between the fingers
Of the desperate who try to eat their fill
Speckled grey suit and ginger hat
Death got tired of the man in black
He said, ĎIím going where the drinks are free
And Iím never coming back'