clear spirits of whisky and shapeless smokes from the tobacco sticks, a purification on the verge.
sinking in thoughts and swimming back to the banks of illogical islands, a scrimption of dodge.
i call you out oh! beloved peril to sing around the serpentine swirl.
i kiss though in the musk of air, don't kiss me back in twisted despair.
the night is gone and the drooling is lost,
what's left is the hangover's thrust.
the head is heavy the heart is so,
still things of logic are far to go.
blank head, numb head, nothing inside,
i love to drink for this day after suicide.
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