Under the glaring neon lights
That flicker and buzz almost inaudible over the background noise of distance and conversation
A guest in the home for the introvert
For an hour or two or six
And company enough within the adorned fragile vessels for even the most lonely
Comfort in idle gazes and nods of affirmation
Another escapist from responsibility


I wash my hands in the stale air and condensation
That paints the scratched glass with a worn face
Shadows and dreams swimming deep within the drug haze
And drowning smiles affixed to each frozen cube
Swirling and laughing, a joke hidden somewhere
And I sit and drink alone until the world drips away
Onto a faded brown coaster