Geriatric Drink Hole

It's an empty place,
This lively pub.
It's a distant thought
At the end of that road.

It's a forgotten vibration
Along the ley lines of life.
I'm not trying to be
Sinister.

It's just the bare truth.
The bare empty truth
At the end of what was,
At the end of my desolate
Insinuation.
The walls,
They crumble
Into tables
Of dust...
Still there
But not quite.