A barren mess
without caress.
The maids scuttle about
while the masters shout.
More ale for the ailing
more ail for the failing.
Bailing from burning wrecks
chasing voided checks.
Fall to the ground running
the rest are coming.
Fears left for dead
stuffed under the bed.
Dice tumblers mumble
drunks merely bumble.
Everywhere is light
yet in the dark they fight.
Old mothers bawl
their children crawl.
Girls sell their nights
steal what’s in site.
Thinkers of odds
beaten with rods.
Come back, lucky
win back your money.
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