Lost Souls To Be Bought And Sold

The rot gut isn’t what got them, it was the masks they wore in that bar they dried their insides out by imbibing distilled spirits claiming future hopes and dreams born in far away locales. The Christmas lights. And the neon-haired Sprites that appeared Present-based but whose archetypes dated back to Tall Tales days. When a hug could be felt more strongly than the drugs sold in the dimly lit back rooms filled with dim-eyed locals looking for a dopamine kick. Oh, to be one with God while being one Being seated in one bar-centered stool.