Anger straight, no ice, tall glass
Drink it down, stare in
Hope the few remaining drops
can tell tell something profound
   Maybe the next ones will
Glasses get emptier, not the only thing
Fill them to the brim with angered breath
vented, burned lungs, throat and nose
Melting the glasses, everything
After enough time even this stool.
Through the floor, eat a direct line to hell
Take another double and slide on down
Bartender there knows you already
   Time to pay the tab

09/11/2005

Posted on 10/03/2005
Copyright © 2024 Ryan M Evon