Of a man I am acquainted, so bland
even the colours of his clothing fainted.
He has a knack of drinking till he passes,
dropping in and dropping glasses.

He chooses not how loud he speaks,
he chooses not how soon he peaks.
He flails about, his arms and legs,
not consciously aware of the help he needs he begs.

I throw my attire, emit many roars,
check my surrounding for wild and mean boars.
So sure, I jump and swim to him,
grab his collar, pull up his chin.

He grabs me back and pulls me down,
still flailing, causing so us both to drown.