Soon

I fought the bottle but I had to do it drunk. Leonard Cohen

Behold the bottle
Behold the glass,
Unscrew, pour some of the one
Into the other
Open gob and tip back…
Soon the softened edges will take hold,
Soon the walls and chairs will be blurred,
Soon even shit won’t smell
And the minute hand will flee
Tailgated by the hour,
Then I’ll fall into bed
Head slow mo-ing into pillow
As the mattress spins at forty rpm.

No thoughts of morning
But I mourn the blurred edges,
The softened chairs and walls,
What happened to them and
The haze of their hour
Where I could shed the heavy clothes
That make me bend triple?
They came and went
Faster than a virgin’s first time.
Come sleep and smother
The Corryvreckan in my head
Until I can seek those spirit friends again,
See if they’ll stay longer this time.

Stay..

S t a y . . .

S t a y . . . .

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