Dead Sirens

My body is shaking in abstinence
the jokes from the other guests
seem in no need to comfort or confront me.
What I would give
for some songs
what would I
sell not my soul for;
trade with the next for
a penny and a banana peel
a sock with a hole
a nail on a log
free condoms
a used tissue with embroidered initials.
Never forget
strawmen are preferred
to scare away crows.
I wish for a fallout winter
give the madness a cause
dark clouds for hunters to never have to hide in
it all just can’t be silent whispers
but how could I deny
what I hear too?
what is there to lie about
off course?
I pay the next round
and talk about what he should think about
but he just searches for an outlet to stick his anger into.