Bigorexia, when you just want to bulk up on muscle, or, Monexia, when you just want to pump up your paycheck—
To buy beer. Ah, my dear Coronas, now, we have nothing to fear. The cold sugar fatigue from your liquid intoxication
floats bubbles through minding this insipid incarceration.
I may be locked down in Wu Han screaming in the night but I have my yellow friend by my side.
Aye, Captain Corona. Godspeed. Take me to the promised land, wherever it may be, whether the dreams of lies behind death's veil peace from inebriation beatifically avail.
Note: The writer of this poem does not endorse use of alcohol or alcohol related products. Nor does the writer of this poem drink anything but water and herbal tea.