My Dad's PLace.

[skatebetty]

it's started again
kinda like how it used to be
drunk on cheap vodka and stale company
the early morning hours
spent at my place
the house where
you slept it off, or filled your taste
dried beer stains
and the snores of youthful waste
mouth full o' smoke or tongue
veins full o' poison or blood
dead nights' afterglow
coiled in teenage lust
between the sheets
the room where acid dreams
could lay listening to the beats
but it's not a party if it happens
every ngiht
in the house where the dialated eyes
can hide
it's getting old
I'm still trying
but my hands and eyes are tiring
this style
of artificial life
can only be lived in the broken mind.