A starved fruit
is that,
of the open mouthed end,
to a warm,
bottle of wine
slugging back,
the bitter
disgust.
Reaping benefits
like ergot
off rye.
Tumultuous temptations,
shouting out
the window;
"I'll do it, I'll do it,
******* it, I'll do it"
One last look
into
the soul-sucking rim,
of a warm,
bottle of wine.
Swimming into
the sediment,
gravity of cement,
drowning.
"I'll do it, ******* it,
I'll do it"
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 11:57 AM UTC
A starved fruit
is that,
of the open mouthed end,
to a warm,
bottle of wine
slugging back,
the bitter
disgust.
Reaping benefits
like ergot
off rye.
Tumultuous temptations,
shouting out
the window;
"I'll do it, I'll do it,
******* it, I'll do it"
One last look
into
the soul-sucking rim,
of a warm,
bottle of wine.
Swimming into
the sediment,
gravity of cement,
drowning.
"I'll do it, ******* it,
I'll do it"
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