I lie here,
dead ******* drunk,
whiskey venom swirls
through my veins
& I have become
the truest of believers,
****** madness
has made me more acute,
I am enlightened.

Outside my window,
cars honk out in the street,
heaps of molded steel
rush past each other,
their drivers flicking
fingers & butts.

And over in the next city,
I can hear the jackhammers
destroying the hero-statue
& the old *******
crying into their
calloused hands,
praying for the resurrection.

But those young ones
in the neighboring state
are waiting,
waiting
for the insurrection
to follow.
They know it by instinct.
They scream out in unison
that the time has come
for those ancient dynasties
to crumble.

O yes, the effects of inebriation
have taken hold me
& sadly,
I am at a loss to help
such rebel souls rumble.
I cannot even crawl
across the floor
to open the door.

So here I lie
in my own puke
& yet
I still
smell the roses
& think about
the other junkies
who lie drunk,
****** *******
wallowing
in their own puke,
dreaming of the revolution.