The Bar; my oscar with no star

My oscar with no star
the smooth crimson curves on my car
volatile bravery turgored in my scars
those bottles chilling on the rack symbolised the Mecca of my youth
the very reason to loot the economy and break the rules to pay the mules
80’s disco ball spinning reminds me of what the world was before it became flat
that cold drink is my parliament
deem lights the cure for my ailments
the confession box i lament
the differentiated sections branched out like the lies peddled in church
for when the pastor sees my lines
i retort am doing just fine fine stripped man of God
deep pockets yet to suffer any strain
on opening, the love keeps bouncing back like a sprain
like the bar flies keeping me creepy
is it because am not a good roomie??
once a fly fell in my beer
i sucked her dry and hung her on the window pane
so the others got the message lets not even try
but its hard not to regurgitate if you are a herbivore
when the yeast keeps waking the beast in you
the flames keep burning,
the hopes keep flaring like slideshows
the dreams pro-create and your inadquacies become nothing but hear say
but…
society keeps labelling you a drank
a perfect example of moral decay
but its just society and i love my bar……

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