Death Comes Knocking

loaded handguns
and loaded syringes
when you’ve stared both of them in the eye
the nights become different
the heart dies
the mind races
nothing makes sense
yet everything becomes important
death knocks
I don’t mind answering the door
tequila and bourbon shots
drags from glass pipes
loaded handguns and loaded syringes
they make most problems seem insignificant
they make most days seem quiet
death comes with a deck of cards
another night of betting my soul
as always, I end up with the winning hand