How Do I Get Out Of Life Without Dying

the walls sweat cheap bourbon, the clock grinds its teeth, and outside, the night spits curses at the drunks who never learned to lose. you ask me how to leave life without dying— but what have you ever had that wasn't already rotting? the job, the woman, the rented room, they all go like smoke from a busted cigarette— thin, wasted, without apology. maybe you walk away slow, maybe you stay and let the rats teach you how to chew through steel. either way, the joke's on you.