I’m the thing in the middle of the street at night.
I’m an alcohol prone cigarette drone.
Roll me up some suicide, I puff it with pride.
I’m what’s feared at night.
I even give myself a fright.
The world takes pictures of me.
A spectacle.
I’m the perfection of failure.
I’m the shadows.
The dismal abyss the world needs.
I’m colder than a robot.
Quieter than a rat.
I’m what you can but can’t see.
I’m cheaper than air and just as useful.
Use me up, ******* away.
I seek love and connection.
A warm place to be.
My disposition cuts connection clean.
I’m the H spoon.
Never washed, always abused.
I’m spread like a disease.
Unwanted, and to be killed.
Eradicate me please.
I’m a ***** injected, loose connected, nicotine aspirated, four cylinder waste machine.
No one cranks me with the hand of desire.
Just in lust of deceit and fire.
I’m thrown away when you’re done with me.
I’m the byproduct of society.
The degradation of sobriety.
I’m the Night Rider.