i might write a governable verse
of applause,
but no verse writes applause
when i drink my last whiskey,
pop a sleeping pill
and gulp the last duck
force-fed calorie intake for sleep
to overcome life...
may death and no dream...
i hate life on the sly...
if life likened to dream
and death the after...
i don't want to remember this life
and i don't want an afterlife;
may my life be as mediocre as
it was... but do not let promises
of second one come my way
for a second yearning of mountains
not climbed, or seas not swam through
on the promise of a trough snorkelled
through of a pig's snout
plated as charcoaled meat with two veg
and no hinduism.