between the hat and boots an old man stands withered and totaled with every breath taken another months rent paid and every time I blink another decade passes by
but with each passing year another candle stands as the cake burns brighter in the age of my doing than the year before
while others await the next coming attraction
while others rage and never move on
while others drink poison and wait
while others hold onto an extreme admiration for the total of their deeds
while others are out walking and mingling down the streets and celebrating their stupid existence
my piano tongue will cope with the bottle and write poetry like taking a **** it exits my body and the weight had being lifted, but one is excrement and the other is soul, essentially the same thing pending who you are or who you were
and my two best friends, loneliness and emptiness will put on party hats make some noise and sing songs for me under drooping streamers where the living remain physically present and absent minded once again.