Max Myre

Rookie - 0 Points (Vankleek Hill Ont)

Them - Poem by Max Myre

bass pounding
hour after hour
tribes of men
hunting for a one night slave

treble running
whatever that is, constantly
making my beer stale
my scotch younger

empty conversations
empty minds
empty souls
full bar

fake happiness
fake attitude
fake tits
real morons

still sitting
still sipping
still thinking
remaining, still

writing on a wet napkin
I slumber
wide awake
I order

for I am here
with them
for I am
like them

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 2, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, May 3, 2013

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