It's Always Like This

It’s Always Like This Empty stool in that sleazy bar I go to too often. I leave smelling like stale beer dead cigarettes whiff of vomit with anyone I don’t know from anywhere or his name. You were I was no different. Why even imagine what might be possible? Four floors eight flights top of the stairs dirty green walls two-burner in the closet mattress on the floor a window above the bed. Yes, there’s stars but that’s too romantic for crazy drunk sex. You’re gone when we’re done. Same old ending.