A bad joke without linesnPunch the air, hands collapse in desperate comanMy eyes pinpoint out the illusion, a bad dream these tiesnA stale and ugly kissnHandsome ridges melt away the layers of waste, think prodding savior eating away at raw nerve fleshnThis time harder and harder to beat the flies, the damp syphilis, the drainnSelf-medicating ghost of times past forgottennThere is no dark pride in lonelinessnEscape those thick heads, denounce those addictions and memory fadenWhat’s your pleasure, pistol or syringe?nThen take aim and fire… Watch those memoriesnOr drop dead