Loiterers
by Jon McFarland
in the eyes of those who stand around
watch the rest fall to the ground
the world moves so fastly in the light
slowly in the dark of death's delight
the beauty of their ignorance
holds at such expense
the pain that fills the obvious
leaks from the oblivious
and pushes through the trenches
thirst for sorrow it never quinches
they watch the rest shake with need
as their tracks slowly bleed
their cares pulsate out
poison flows through the spout
they take a look at the choices
then stop to hear the voices
it doesn't matter the favorite
each death still desperate
crawling down with addiction
watchers pay no attention
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