The drunken man spins the tales
Upon the cardboard box
Out of his mouth spews the wonders of worlds
His hand clutching the bottle top
 
He tells of knights
And dragons of fire
Of cowboys and monsters
And vampires sucking
the blood from your body
leaving your soul
in the dark of the night
and your body away from the Sun
 
He’ll stop in midsentence
The ending in air
You ask him what happens
He’ll laugh and he’ll say
“They died. All of them! And now I am here
With my stories and my bottle
And my cardboard box.”
 
But How? How did they die?
You’d ask and you’d ask
You’d beg and you’d cry
Dying
for the answer
 
He would look at you
Straight in the eye
And say
“They died inside”
Shake his mane and only say
“They died inside”
They died inside
 
His eyes would go far away
A distant look in a distant place
Bring the bottle to his lips
And start another story