We were sitting in a bar
afraid to be sober
afraid to go home
afraid to be seen as being alone
Mr and Mrs Wasted
we had a title
we were proud
we belonged to the same
bottle of decadence
We travelled the same road
of perpetual oblivion
We smiled that same ghastly
smile of the constantly hidden
eyes leering with the glaze
of the perfectly pickled
Every night we played the
same songs on the jukebox
afraid to change the routine
for fear that doing so
would signify progress
We talked the same conversation
to the same people
in the same bar in the
same time zone we
belonged to
Elegantly disguised as a
happy couple by the
lost minds that
surrounded us
Once we determined that
we were sufficiently
bottled enough to be
presentable to the world
we would go home
and make love
We would each pretend
the other was someone
we liked