~inhaling Ice Cube Charms~

I want to drink that last shot of whiskey and smoke that last cigarette .. .. before the barman calls out time and ashtrays are snuggled in warm embrace within wet dreams, flushing away debris. Listening to the night where hedgerow mikes suffer ejaculations of a karaoke star, expunging fuelled retorts, while his fashion accessory glitters in the last busses stare; but that is later. Now lips slip round rims of warm wet circles, melting ice cube charms into liquid mixers; an embrace of slurred remembrance, and as the shadowed spirals meander ever closer to heaven, where pseudo suns pulsate, birthing light, the last dram strokes my throat in passing and the haze seems a little clearer, for tomorrow is déjà-vu.