EVERYBODIES HOBBIES.

You get fucked up
To forget
What
You have
And have not got;

What
You had
And lost
Because
You always shot your wad:

Too much junk
And drunken flights
Trying to elude
The night
Of day’s embrace.

And the pace of it
Skittles your pins
And you collapse
Without applause
Or the score you thought;

Striving for life
Whilst driving
Towards death’s door
And imploring loved ones
To revolve it for you:

To pass by
Or effect a rescue,
But who knew,
At the end of the day,
That they’d be as wrecked as you.