Isn’t it funny how an earth-bound drink
modifies our cones into brilliant saturation
and burns our circuits, showers with anticipation?
Well I think it’s funny when the days link
with the invisible individuals in demonstration
of lacked existence while shouldering the cold. They all take a drink,
we all take a drink, and we all never think
when the answer is held in mused assimilation.
Take another drink
of one that jitters; one that’s sync’d.
Jackhammers in our heads amidst deprivation
showering acid rain in our circuits, down the burning drink!
My ******* agitation forces this alliteration
on the lack of restraint on the dull of saturations.
My soul castigates my being not to cradle and devour the drink,
My body, my circuits, hardwired to anticipation.
