They never turn
Off the lights
In city buckets.

There's always some
Drunk Indian calling on
Some high fat guy.

Both of them full
Of ****.

And the pigs,
Come round
Ever so
Often
As never at all.

I saw a guy drown
In his own puke
For two hours,
Cause they couldn't
Be assed,
To walk around.

I cant sleep in
The drunk tank,
Sometimes I'd freak out.

Flooded a cell once
Psychotic
On amphetamines and
Pure
Mental illness.

Am I emotionally attached
To these
Struggles of
Mine?

Nah, just a thing
That happens.

None of it meant
Much.

Just an inconvenience.

Sob stories,
Are best left
For
Black out drunks.

Or crying
In
The
Dark.

Night terrors
Of introspective
Dreams.

Not for,
Common,
Conversation.

Losing yourself
To an infinite
Melancholy,
Is properly done
Alone with
No one to hear.

But you,
And the universe's
Deafening
Indifference.

I'm a
Car crash.

Mangled limbs
Strewn about
******,
Carnage.

I'm
Dying young.

Living on one
Half lung
Shot liver,
And more beer.

I'm
Drifing aimlessly.

Seeing carcasses on
The road of someones
Split second,
Ground down roadkill.

I'm
High perpetually.

Sunken in face
And, veins
Bleeding,
With my last shared needle.

I'm
A waste of time.

But,
I always manage
To persist,
In the muck of necessity.

A macabre love letter
From God,
Suffering builds character.