CWTF VIII - A Slow Death in the Paperwork Cathedral

Stagger along the street for blocks
With only office complexes and the occasional bar for scenery
Everything is coated with a thick crust of dust and grime
A crackling neon light once read 'HELLO THERE' 
Only now the 'O' and the 'T' have fizzled out and died
Leaving "HELL HERE'
You enter trying to stay as incognito as possible
A dozen or so indifferent eyes fall on you
Ties are loosened around their necks resembling nooses
It's like staring into a hall of mirrors
These men are just like you
The bartender clears his throat with impatience
You order a beer then take a seat at a dirty table alone
Sit there playing with a worn book of matches
Striking one at a time and dropping them into the ashtray
To burn out - just like you did
3/4's of a bottle down, a shrill buzzer cries
The patrons all pick up their briefcases
And walk out into the night