The Night looms over
The bed , stars twattle moon scrimp
You lay eggs of love
In my crevice and cleavage
Warmth that can open the door
Categories:
twattle, love, night,
Form: Tanka
Pickled percolating bile
Prances up my prickled throat
Whiskey guides my exile
While arrogance digs a moat
Brain reeking like a dog pile
Mighty flush to spin that float
Jackhammers ravage my brain
As my eyes toil to flutter
Elements of vast disdain
Yelp out within this clutter
Bacchus yanks me on his chain
While I glide in my gutter
Bruises pop out everywhere
Witnessed in that cracked mirror
Vomit caked-up in my hair
Revolt doesn't flash clearer
Locked within my distressed stare
Oblivion creeps nearer
What is this taste on my tongue?
Flavor sticks like a bar floor
Profusely coated in dung
Or perhaps scattered with gore
From my decimated lung
Snubbing to fight anymore
Heaves wobble within my chest
As my legs buckle under
Intestinal aches protest
My ever-loving blunder
Jameson's uncouth houseguest
Possesses me to plunder
I lack triggers of restraint
Base urges strive to throttle
My dim sanity's complaint
Longing shrivels to twattle
Before my spirit grows faint
I reach out for that bottle...
Categories:
twattle, angst, confusion, lossme,
Form: Rhyme