I am sat here alone now
on Table 36. Still ****** in the afternoon
and maliciously lacking function.
Now eyes stray to the barmaids
without a grain of guilt;
indeed, with thirst and *******.
These words come fast and easy
in the humdrum silence
that followed from your chaos.

I have given up on hope,
sat at Table 36. Only placed in the future
and in the absence of action,
for the years I lost myself to you
I combed the mirror of life
in the hope to clean up my act.
Now words come easy
in this newborn retreat,
free from your pain,
free from your deceit.