• As we’re drinking

    by  • April 24, 2014 • * Safe for Work *, Waxing Poetic • 2 Comments

    It’s a soul wrenching night at Madison Station,
    The liquor is cheap, the absence of eloquence is forgiven,
    Drink another bottle, shake another rhythm,
    They say “You’ll sleep when you’re dead”
    Well I’m stirring awake and seething.

    The filth in my bones
    Need to be cleansed.

    I see the prisms of the Church architecture,
    The floating of the apostles of drinkers,
    As they find someone to bargain a hand to hold in the mornin’
    And commit “sins” that only cheapen God’s Existence.

    The filth in my bones,
    Needs to be cleansed.

    Oh it’s a brisk fortitude of ice on the rocks,
    Glasses clanking and deeply sinking thoughts,
    They say “You’ll sleep when you’re dead.”
    Well these walls untangle the secrets I can’t express,
    And my composure to myself is becoming disloyal and tested.

    The filth in my bones,
    Needs to be cleansed.

    Friends chug the remnants of their courage in a glass,
    I foster the idea of taking a cab to avoid the uncertainty of this,
    Because duly noted, the liquor is finished,
    And my soul can’t handle exposing my anguish.

    The filth in my bones,
    Is a well kept secret.

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    2 Responses to As we’re drinking

    1. @author
      April 25, 2014 at 3:35 am

      I love your writing.




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    2. My Socrates Note
      April 25, 2014 at 3:59 am

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