Etching dreams now
I make my own wounds
In the bar until dawn
Strangers abound
Scattered among the tables
Pool sticks stabbing at pool balls
The unmistakable smack
Upon the green carpet
I am weary of life
But still I march
This mortal coil corridor
I sail the seas
Of this misshapen world
Odd heads, odd thoughts
The vapor queue winds
Down the block and more
Littered storefronts
Papers in the breeze
Books in windows
Tell all the stories
Of the mass disarray
cereal after sex 
Your thoughts?