Drew's Wonderful Magnificent Emporimorium

Lies. All lies.



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* -- denotes soonish
three a.m.

the smell of coffee
lingers upon his hand
sifting through his thoughts
like shells in the sand
like bullets of pain
that tore him apart
robbing his desire
like a shopping mart
leaving him for dead
in the dismal diner
fallen down a shaft
like an ex-coal miner

the stench of a smoke
wafts towards his eyes
betraying his vision
whispering soft lies
about where its going
and where it has been
where it wants to be
and why there is sin
wooing him gently
under her rhythm
stealing the breath out
of love within him

the feel of a dime
as he pulls it out
reminds him of days
when he had no doubt
when trust was secure
pure and innocent
when love was aflight
and now discontent
with the way life is
and the way it was
when love was around
creating a buzz

the taste of stale pie
as it dries his mouth
as he finds he keys
and thinks of the south
where women are true
beautiful and wise
kindness emitting from
their dark handsome eyes
where coffee is fresh
and pies all home-made
where thoughts don't linger
and love doesn't jade.