Break the bottle open

Its half past nine

Run out of rum and living on a dime

Night terrors eclipsed

By a cold strip mall bench

Always in thought, fists always clenched

My thumb a bookmark

Between the Psalms and Job

Living on pity and dying on hope

A coffee from McD’s

A Chomps beef stick

Wishing, wishing I could take my pick

Is there a chance…

A dream of warmth?

Could I be different, in stronger form?

Could time transform

Could it peel away

This dirt, this shame…

Or is it here to stay?

Drowning for a taste

Neck-high in the crave

Quenching the urge with nothing but words

The truth is so simple

And impossible to believe

No grace could save a monster like me

A daughter abandoned

A man on the run

No woman could stand this son of a bum

I’ll take my chances

No god looks on me

And stick to my dances, the royal we

Break the bottle open

It’s half past nine

Run out of rum and living on a dime