At a house full of 21
Mirrors,
Timed drinking,
Adding the wine of age minus time.
After-math?
The alchohol's a device helping you
Through a hole in perfection. Which stings
Of regret
During the ride,
You hear a sound sea. Flies
On the wall. Colors flicking.
On and Off tv's
And then, enlightenments
Found
At the center of a floor. Where
You say, Like, wanna lay?
21 taste bitter & sweet
Like,
liberating...
Purity
penetrating
And,
The hangover's a bitch!
Here's a tip,
You mix in some past tense
With a dozen insults. A shot
Of somethin grounding. Like a
Pension. And your Laughter will
Start to pool together. And that'll
Keep down your coming
Manifestations of a
Temporary Nehilist.
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