Plea To The Control Room

Early dissonant noise made by
some over done machine
that’s meant to take the message down
but not remember anything
you’ve ever said.
I thought that you were dead.
While taking stock of all your stuff,
I locked away inside the backseat
of my car that I left parked
for seven years.
I thought that Christmas ended early
but by the strips of lights it looks like
I was wrong.
This drug store soda has been getting
strong all just by mixing with the whisky
on the way to where the day begins,
and I can finally see.
This is the year for me.
Don’t ever bring me back.

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