Clink of glass on glass
Life blood pouring forth
Cold and sour
Slick and good
The haze will claim us soon

Heartbeat clipping at his brain
He lies in his puddle of misery
Breath absent
Feelings dull
A smile rips across his face.

Stupor putrefies.
Knees wobble and hands prostrate.
Spirit slows its breathing.
Beholden to the madness
Laity massed around.
Sip. Sip. Drip. Drip.
Pray the sun doesn't rise tomorrow.

The finger seeps from the clouds,
caressing the corners of his mind.
His eyes widen at the horror.
Pulse fast, hands cold.
Decision final.
Go again.

Hungry are the hands that claw out the brain,
In a fit of absent envy for the thrill of yesterday,
Slickened in blood and wine as it congeals around the mouth,
It pours into the toilet, a buffet consumed, destroyed.

Crust around the edges
Of a molten black blancmange.
Sealing in the flavour.
A magnificent masterpiece.

He pushes at his straight lines,
It's heaven in there,
Whole and pure and white,
It's wholesome.
It's tingling and tantalising.
Add one can for flavour.
My god just let me sleep.
Forever.