Monday, July 19, 2010

demons

Nickels and Dimes
Quarters and Halves
Eighths and pounds
Giggles and laughs
Tracers and trails
Eyeballs and scales
Primos and rails
Swishers gone stale
Boomers are great
With the tea from the shake
Chron from the City
Of Angels and quake
Crank and the meth
Spoons to inject
Crack in the veins
At best equals death
Things fall apart
Blackened the heart
Blurred becomes art
You knew from the start
Life it consumes
Snowball monsoon
Coffin cocoon
Dustpan and broom
Windows are barred
Loved ones are scarred
Pawnshop guitars…
Dreams fallen far
Laughter has strayed
Giggles gone grey
60 an eighth
Demons get paid

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