My brain
wakes up
and cries for
the death of
its living baby.
so used to
hurling
ourselves
[booze]
down the hatch,
the still
afterwake
unscathed
is surreal;
like crying
when happy,
our system
malfunctions.
Somber Sobriety
I spew all these words at you, releasing them from bonking around up in my noggin causing a ruckus.
