This city drinks me in
Scratches my skin
And calls life sin

I am one bottle
Half empty
Sick salt water
Made to spit
Wet ****
As this vile brew
Slips pass my
Cracked lips

Drunk to get free
Buzzed to be me
So people can see
I don’t care what they think
How sobering

Dry eyes sealed shut
Crusted sleep dust
Thirsty, sore
If I flew before
I do not remember
I am disrobed
And dismembered
Exposed in December

Towering teeth
Swallowing me
Till I cannot see
Till I cannot breath
Till I have to leave

Water skin broken
The tab is busted
The words drained
Fizzy water
Becomes my
Clouded brain
I am spent
So I hit the train
Exiting as other dreamers
Come raining in

Coughing like a cold start
Wheezing like a bag
Spitting through the back door
Have another ***
Doing the dying thing

Filling up an ash-tray
Feeding a fat face
Drinking cans of lager
Getting in a state
Doing the dying thing

Reading ****** papers
**** and bingo cards
Have another lager
Another pound of lard
Doing the dying thing

Sitting watching game shows
Rattling paper bags
Looking bored and farting
How the sofa sags
Doing the dying thing

Working for a *******
For very little pay
Yes boss and no boss
For eight hours a day
Doing the dying thing

Safely empty headed
Dull of thought and eye
Ignorant and vacant
There are many ways to die
Doing the dying thing

                                       By Phil Roberts

Don't you ever think about timing?
Sometimes things don't work out and
sometimes broken glasses never tell you
why they run away and it just becomes
a fact of life that you'll never see another
pair of broken glasses.

I told our story to two stars so I hope
you'll get the symbolism when the
wrecking ball comes to tear them
down. I find it reassuring that we'll
never be remembered; we just
nonchalantly broke each other's
hearts.

Life is like a game,

There are few simple rules,

As long as you try,

Life will go by ,

Why because you tried,

With all of your will,

With will you will,

Go far in the greatest game of all,

Life.