The way the chilled glass sits and liquid pours-
Soulful singing soothes the mind-
No wonder they go back to the liquor-
If I follow the tracks they lay- would I too
Find shelter in bubbles, therapy in fermented steam-
I might need a vice but no-

Such a classy act to chug from tap upside down-
Illegal now but legal Now-
To trick the brain into a floating void-
Oh how wonderful but-
For some reason I fear putting drink to lips
The burning down my throat.
So- in soulful bar, the glass sits on its rim
Await till I fall thin.
Till the day I crumble it sits.