Liquor Psalms

The dullness of life is growing more bland

With each day I can feel my trembling hands

Shuddering like a tattered forest grove

Devoid of anything that resembles love.

All in search of the next trip to the sky

Where the clouds wetten my palms

And release me from this desert dry

While playing those burning liquor psalms.

Seduce me away from that sorry hole

That I may call my herald back home,

Unless he should forget how to pull

Me to freedom in my sorry drone.

Depraved and deprived sound the same

but I am not both, or am I insane?

One two twelve in sixty,

Killing myself but feeling so plenty.

Jolting bumblebees and fleeting butterflies

Tear away at the caretaker of my core,

Keep saying it to yourself! Keep up the lies

And it'll be easier to drown a couple more.

Laying like a damp rag at midnight's pall

My liver's morning is painful to all.

And upon the moment the sun grows tall

This droughted tundra will crave barley's dew.