As evening sweeps the remnants,
Of broken glass from the floor,
The spills of another hard-luck tale,
That got sucked in through the door,
I’m hunched in the corner,
Of a dead-end bar,
This loners game is like walking out,
Into a night without stars.
The crowd stagger clumsily into the street,
Smoke curls from my fingertips,
Like an apparition rising,
From a city of brittle dreams,
That crumble like ash,
Choke on ambition.