back in an old
familiar place
familiar burn running
down the back of my throat
a cool hot breath of air
in this back alley
a different place
then before same store
drunks druggies degenerates
wasting away with thoughts
and wine in hand
dancing in delight
at sight of
this recognized respite
where they can park their bikes
i think i might
dance with them
to that familiar rhythm
in opposition of
this sad sanguine ***** den
i think i might
sing along
the same song of sin