A place like home

There’s no place like home,
And this is nowhere like home,
Stale smoke and sticky tables,
Rancid smell of yeasty beer and pre-packed food, But this is home now,
This cant have happened to me,
Looking for clue’s in sad songs on the jukebox,
In the eyes of the others along the bar,
My fellow bar flies with their own sad stories,
True or false they stick to them,
Getting worse further down the line you go,
Is this the course of my degeneration?
One way ticket to Waterloo Bridge,
And cocktails in vivid purple with less American dry, My mind snapped back to now by the last order bell, That time already do I need a take out? Thinking through my swimming mind,
Well while I do a pint and a chaser please,
Down the chaser with the kick of a mule, Warming my icy soul,
But doesn’t chase the pain away,
Two more shots to keep the cold out I lie,
But to whom,
Eleven twenty and i’m woken by the shout,
Drink up gentlemen please,
Aint you got homes to go to,
Well I have and I drift back,
To a time,
House car two point three children Mr Average,
But they were good times,
In the summer of my life,
But now outside the winter wind howls,
Trees sway black in the night,
Body screams a little less abuse,
Insomnia haunts my nights,
Alcohol haunts my days,
Monsters scream twenty four seven,
Ears ring heart yearns and mind swims in perpetual daze, What’s dreaming? What’s real?
The cycle of love and love lost in vicious intent, Kills me a little more each time,
Smoke one more nail for my beckoning coffin, Pick up my coat,
Pulled up tight against the night air,
The only sign of life is my warm breath,
Grey and lifeless on the cold night air,
Foot steps echo,
The army of drunks all over this land, Trudging the way home in a music less dance, The closing time dance, natural and never taught, For me my door calls and emptiness howls, From within a shadow of my past flickers, Alas just wisps of breath and shadings of drink, My footsteps fall on carpet less floors and ring out, Open the fridge but not for food, Children’s laughter no longer light the dark corners, No warm and soft lover to chase away my torment, If this is hell give me back my heaven, Praised and never taken for granted again,
If i’m taken before I wake thank god,
If not then why,
Body tired from living this life,
To wake is to return,
Each day a carbon of the last, All that changes is the volume of consumption, To begin again and never to learn,
A pint and a chaser bar steward,
Click my heals but still I remain,
No it aint nothing like home.

Real Coffee bean and acrylic pen. More at Bespoke Woods Facebook page.

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