The Phantom Club

I'm here to find my nightly addiction A place Visited by ghosts of distraction. I look across the room to find one To share my affliction. I need to fill my glass, then See you to grasp this shakening task. I just want to taste your story And spit out your charred ash. Make me an offer As I lean on your coffin And sip from the glass Of your lastest encounter. Go ahead and touch me, I tingle. My memories thunder as You slide off your mask, But me? I'm transparent, Remember? I am lost in your tomorrows. I'm drunk in islands of ecstasy borrowed, Visiting your lonliness; Pleasures that rot in Glasses of bourbon on tables Left not emptied. In here, tell me stories Of your mother, And even less of your stolen dreams That cause you to shudder. Cuddle me in your sweaty blankets, As you pound every regret Between my bloodless And brandished wishes. I'm here to take my drink. Hold me. Lose me. Pour me. And I'm filled until the next longing Unleashes my unquenchable thirst, Into a crowd of phantom visions.