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Culvert Crowd by Lillibet Ray




Culvert Crowd

 

Opening the door to the tavern

Rotten royal scent fuming

from the neck of an empty bourbon flask. 

Drunk eyes staring at the fly on the wall

That watches a girl drown her liver

And compromise her soul

All to take the sting of the real world away.


Curly club roller coaster, jukebox pulsates

To the beat of the empty heart in the corner

With an empty home and empty bed

And wallet of twenties and clouded head.

Grin of stone with a glass of whiskey to wash it down,

And a hunch of human despair so permanently round.


Marlboro steer shadows a pool table.

Neon glares off the dark glasses of a man with

Dark clothes and dark habits and

White smile,

Bright enough to blind the senses and

Charming the petals of each

Female flower with

A ripe pistol and eyes of desire.


Stage of life with no performers, drum set

Summoning the battered bartender, bold

In her leopard spot silk scarf, hiding

Her scarred, bruised skin with memory marked.

She tips a bottle, dancing with drinks,

Intoxicated by the hum of the crowd,

Preoccupied with

 The sum of her fear-filled frowns.


Rest not, want not, hot coal bed

Free the succulent serpent

Inside the head of all

The blitzed bingers crying more for less,

Liquified caress,

Full at night, empty at dawn.

Walking a road to the high, to the grave,

It’s all the same in a world

Of indulgence and

Creative pain.

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