work

bruises stain my legs
and I'm at work again

another pointless night-
an unforgiving one-

two beers in my body
and it's not enough.

my scars make me feel
like I've lived

talking to strangers - serving them
it's belittling-

this place is a dirty cave
smelling of stale beer and old pizza

no one to talk to
nothing to occupy my time

chain smoking and hope that
tomorrow offers excitement is all i have

the tip jar is mostly bare
a few silver coins litter the bottom-
how will i buy love and beer tomorrow-

i smell like him or maybe that's just how i smell-
either way it reminds me of him-

i keep thinking I'm ready to leave
but nothing waits for me at home-

people come in - laughing and talking
with sweat rolling down their jowls
when they smile i can see
the bits of hate sticking to their teeth
they are just as anxious for life to begin as i am-