Light shuffles to my window
Muttering and weaving
Its breath is heaving
Derelict dawn
Yawns for lack of sleep
The sun slept
In a cardboard box
And now creeps out
Bleary eyed
Tired of begging
To pay for the bottle
Of Thunderbird
That will help it taste the day
It's creating.

Del Sol wears the
Solar flares like
Shrouds, the
Spiritual blindness
Of Jim Jones
Talking the earth
And its world
Of living things
To drink in the
Lemon Kool-Aid
Of light.

The only existing
Elixir to the
Ones tired to the
Marrow is
The drink of
Darkness.


Its breath
The beer
Which tells
The sober
It has
Drunk
Its
Fill.


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022