The drunken intellectuals of the north end street
Look at the mirror with grin and greed
Self indulgence is compulsive narcissism
Above the ditches and below a crown
Searching for their left out egos and worn out prides
Under the bottles of wines and whisky
Struggle is their humiliation
Naked in their dresses
Hunting them inside the scripts of rejected stories
Villains, heroes and comedians
Erotic kisses in blotted inks
Play the guns in the torn up edges
The constant disguise in the last page
Amongst the deep cellulose of angels and paint
Unsung solos of eulogy
For their pride, posse and talent
Gods of Words or Reality Destructors?
Thriving for sentences through the half inch glasses
Finding themselves
In the vivid caricatures
Of Beauty and facades
Filling the spaces in their separated words
While the void in their life is in search
Of their clone in the secret pages of a poet
Staring at the last sip in the bar at north end street.
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