Even The Dead Can't Stop Playing Poker Poem by Wamii Flyer

Cables and marbles scattered
Throughout this abandoned casino

Holds the memories of those
Who bet their souls away

Sounds of glass and dirt
Getting crunched underneath combat boots
Alert lingering spirit of addicts

Dust filling up our lungs
One cough after another

Flashlights highlight cracked chips
50,100,500
A few 1000s stick out
With footprints all over them

Brilliant moonlight brings out a rotting endoskeleton
Sitting so delicately on top of an oxidized metal chair

Bright white light seeping through each rib
Reflect off the hip
In hand: 1 dollar chip

Poor guy
Lost his life even before he could lose a bet.

''Hey, we could steal these chips and sell 'em off as ours.''
''Don't be stupid.''