Tonight,
I am solemnly drunk
My mouth reeks with offending rifts –
They called it alcohol, I call it drink.
My head spins,
Angels and demons warred in my stomach
(or were they dancing?)
They danced or warred so violently
That my mouth spewed bile.
I laughed,
Ah! The rich laughter of a wealthy pauper.
The demons had won
And the Angels rejoiced.
Why!?
I look ruffled!?
Peer closely mateys,
I’m merely dressed for the ball tonight.
They claimed drinks would be aplenty:
Haha! My sweetly bitter fiends
I love them so dearly
it rivaled the devil’s love for hell.
What’s that buzz?
Where is it coming from?
My head!?
Who placed a hive in there?
I am Angry!?
No, I will show you angry
And feed your scullery tongue to the wraith.
How dare you!
But come, my friend,
Is there a buck in there?
The tongue is parched,
I must wet it with liquid sprinkles.
That slattern that sashayed by,
Isn’t she lovely in that dizzying moonlight spinning above?
Oh! She’s Tommy’s sister?
That insufferable dullard!
He had my tongue freezed
And pull from beneath my derriere, my chair.
Why is my eyes suddenly watery?
Who installed the running tap?
Why is my heart shrinking
And the breath, from me seized?
I have lost all
But found even better deep down the sea.
No, my dear dear friend;
I’m not miserable,
I am merely drunk.
Those who drink to drown their sorrows should be told that Sorrow knows how to swim–Ann Landers