Poem-A-Day: Day 121

On the House

“Another sad shot of depravity please.”

“Drink is on the house.”

always is,
at the bars around my padded cell
singing lonesome songs
about the fish
and how they get away.
not without toying the line first,
they always take the worm,
and leave nothing but a thought,
at how it would look mounted
up against the wall.

another sad shot,
slammed down,
blamed for,
and revels in the pit
I love to wallow.

at least the drink was on the house.