Grain Alcohol
Thick in
My rotting belly
Stumbling
I pass through the door
Leaving it wide and abandoned
I trudged to the middle of the yard
Cold dew and grass at my feet
A majestic cloud
Now fallen
White fog
No light is mentioning his existence
I sit on God's floor
Still dark
Writting this poem on my skin
Ball point pen
And there like a leap
The first ray of a sweet
Orange sun