Arcade Poem by Tanner Herndon

With Heads consisting of more
Holes than Swiss cheese,
Everything just falls out of place;
Women and men alike, playing each other
Like pianos, waiting for someone to get shot,
I have been in this bar for thirty-two hours straight,
With a crooked smile on my face,
I tilt my head to try and straighten it out
But nothing works.
I am broken, among others, sanity is overrated,
I hear a rattling in my head, constantly, and I think
It's loose change, but I can never seem to get
It out of my ears
I wait for nickels and dimes and quarters and
Pennies to come out of my nostrils whilst I
Blow my nose, but only blood, is what I get.
I should probably see a technician, about
My brain.
Must be some nuts and bolts floating around
In their.
Guess I could sell them to charity,
But who will pay to save me?
I'm not a damn coin machine,
Although, I am more suitable to be an arcade game:
People always invest money and time into me, and
All I do is get played.