Spotlight

Out. Out.
Escape.

The train whistles its obnoxious thunder,
charming the locals with hopes and dreams.
Fantasies of trips and excitement.

I live that life.
The parties, the glamour.

The lights.
It's always the lights that bring them in.
Those foolish wanderers.
Never satisfied. Never.

Don't approach the lights.
The flashing neons, the luminous heart attacks.
It crowds the epileptics, and the schizophrenics,
donning them in a plethora of gaudy embellishments.

The strobe light scolds my sensitive eyes.
It pierces my scarred retinas,
screaming melodies of a drug-induced haze.

The different drinks,
a myriad of colors against dark countertops.
Varies, night to night,
prison to prison.

Constant scrutiny, my own personal hell.
That train became the cold-eyed bailiff,
whisking me away to my own death sentence.

Pour each drink, and lock away that key.
I'm building myself a jail cell out of booze.