What is life

without a little poison?
Dips off cups of
wine laced with debauchery and
and sweet, sweet nectar
fit not for Gods
but worms.

What is life without a little
rot to fill my lungs
with acrid air and a wounded throat?

What is life without a little tint of black
on my teeth
and my heart
if only to show a hint of gold in there
somewhere.

Oh yes, such pain, such joy
in finding one’s bones
crackle and pop
as meager table scraps of affection afflict
the mind
with terrible, terrible bouts of delusion.

Melancholy is bitter sweet
for a reason. It would not have come
to be
had not we been fated
to love

what will not love us back.

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One thought on “What is life

  1. Not my best work, nor a very good one at the least. It seems a bit defeatist for my taste, but I don’t know. A fell mood came over me earlier and I thought: “Hey, why not a few words about beer and cigarettes?” I wish I was a bit more concrete with this though. The debauchery and nectar fit for worms are a little too abstract. I should do something with that even though I like the wordplay. Too much in the way of the abstract, this little thing is.

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