Table of Three
Sitting on a cold barrel,
Between a bike,
And last night's waste-
Asphalt as far as the I can see.
I'm at it again.
Another morning of pleasantries,
And plastered smiles.
If the sky could just give me a line,
One with weight,
Then maybe I could make it.
But the bells are ringing,
Somebody needs their medicine.
And I'm just looking to pay for mine.
It's a senseless cycle,
Consumed by the musty mundane.
..Check please.