Capetonification

Amazing Disgrace,
How discordant the sound.
The song.
So loud.
Windows vibrating in their wooden frames.
Bass.
Like angry bees.
JD gives what's coming to me.
Fucked me to the floor,
Beat me shitless.

Lying in my own piss and shit,
Holding onto a dream,
An impossible dream,
I can make it.
I can be good.

But then I wake up,
my sweat cold,
the evening hot.
And I remember.
I remember that it's too late.

I reach for Old No. 7.
Never disappointing me.
A warm embrace,
Familiar.
And that's enough.
Eyes that are blind with memories do not see the truth of a life unfulfilled.

Used all the chances I could,
Whittled away at love,
Failed on my promises,
Broken all bonds,
Severed all ties.

All I have left are these hands,
To write my words.

A Darkhorse, at it's final show.

I'll be the old man at the corner of the bar,
in the dark,
alone,
his gaze adrift and afar
whiskey staining his breath,
grey,
unwashed,
unloved,
unclean.
Alive but not living.
No children to mourn for him.
No wife to love him.
Pissed it all away.
Forgotten ghost,
Burned all the bridges of friendship.
Him and his sadness.
Together, to the end.

Only these hands.
A pauper.
To my dying day.

A Darkhorse, at it's final show.