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'