amongst the deranged and lonely

i drink amongst 

the deranged and lonely

who have no place to go 

where the bartender sometimes 

gives me free rounds on account of

“you’re a good dude and 

i see your sorrow”

i don’t ask for much

and i’m given a lot,

i should be thankful,

but i wish to be 

left alone

i wonder if this sort of thing

plagued my ancestors and 

if this fixation on death 

can be attributed to 

them or if it’s just 

my head

Tohm Bakelas

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