A quick wink of the eye

And everyone knows it’s there peering at it with the corner of a right eye
sitting next to support beams almost out of view
silently glaring back to the conscience adding a washed up heavyweight with a case of glass jaws
it’s not your day kid
self destruct in the 3rd
a private war of melancholy lust filled eureka moments you could call it but only translates into a mumbling Behan to himself about the drink,the fuck and the fight
the ritual
we pray for the language and explanation just to be met with low angry jeers waving the white flags of the constant let down that cements these beams to the peripheral vision
wearing skin down into the crow wrinkles and the almosts
and bartender is not the talkative type


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