The whiskey well has run dry, each drop slowly flowing and exiting. Seeping out of pores and fading into the night sky.
Body aches and mind begins to wander down crooked paths into dark oblivion. A vice that kills while it fills deep holes of shattered self esteem.
A slow suicide by ethanol and clouds of green. Sprinkle some snow to feel serene. Dancing with monsters on fine lines of moon light, flirting with the reaper and laughing with delight.
Ignite the desire to drown my regrets by playing a game of Devil's roulette.