money grabber

Women dancing with slot machines, I ought to buy you a Wii Fit. Just walked into zombieland. This place is consuming and grotesque. The people stare. Fish bowl eyes topped with glassy icing, donut tops. Flashing lights gleam off of these machines that make or break people. Some people are feeling glorious and with the tap of a button feel like shit. Worthless, and with the spin of a wheel, content with dollars signs. A blood sucking, soul stealing - money raping machine but the lights are so pretty why the fuck not feed it, and try to get back excitement out of it. Worthless. Fulfilled. Unsatisfied. Enthusiastic. A windowless chamber of alcoholics and smoke with disco queen lights and champagne glitter, it always looks like night in here. But life is happening outside. A devilish entrapment housing eager hopefuls and promising nothing. People literally praying to God? Buddha? Satan? People clapping and cheering amongst people swearing and crying. Hands gripping cold machinery while others grip crisp fifties like this is the end of the world. Punching noises and a constant spin that's making me sick. Watching these people makes me kind of curious what they're going to do next. Pockets urging more pull, robot mouths only too happy to accept. A mildew carpet muffling the clicks of heels and old women with mustaches, men drinking beer. Gooey lipped people all drooling and sorts, a pandemic of participation in a game of rape, pillaging through the house and these minds are all too preoccupied so they clap and boast about mediocre things and cross their fingers behind their backs. Clutch the crosses around their necks. And swear to god that their big win will come next. For heaven's sake these people are all spent out, any no where close to backing out.