2011/07/17

Anti Climactic - 2011/07/17

A bottle of whiskey is empty
Rolling about upon the floor
The last few drops of liquor
Slowly drift on out the door
Which concoction did I taste
To birth murmurs in my sleep
Which great gift did I waste
That urges me to loudly weep

The green fairies swooped in
Yet my only muse is in vomit
Which leaves my mouth bitter
And head crying like a comet
What mad mind conceived this
Believing it was a good idea
Was I simply a foolish child
Searching for a real panacea

A worm lives inside my belly
Eating these pretty trinkets
It lives within gaping holes
Slowly deepening all my pits
Into stygian hells I plummet
Unable to grasp simple truth
That curses of understanding
Follow the diminishing youth

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