You fogged yourself out

for a long time, still chanting

satanic prayers.

The bags of dead batteries,

the slowly dying spunk.

You used to stand without sleep,

you used to stay and rage.

With a thick friend

you'd rock the moldy armchair.

And your other friend would laugh

playing his rancid stereo.

A siren would be plucked

from the air.

And the lights of town would ooze

above the hilltops

that we could not see.