Madness of the Guilty Drunk.
I dabble in that which seeks the night in false bitter screams,
For in this wandering fading grip I hold onto dreams.
Some say I am a bit insane in fortitudes embrace,
Yet I drink the fire to blind my eyes from that devil’s face.
I invite you all to sit down and witness all the beasts,
Have a sip, pour a glass, it is the window to the feast.
Don’t look at me with judging eyes until you down the glass,
For things will clear, come to light, when held in truths bitter grasp.
I dabble in that which seeks the night in false bitter screams,
I down the drink, I hold the pint, and whisper to the dreams.
And now I sway, glass in hand, tell tells of lost battles won,
The heavy heart, the solemn tears brought forth by glasses done.
The eyes grow weary, the hands shake, the slurring songs are stilled,
Still I reach for the devil’s fire as the mug is refilled.
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