Gin

There are no sheets and there is no song

my lips dont part sweetly to paint metaphors

for your drunkeness

 and your kisses are so gin stained

that even i loose all infatuation to them

 

There are no moments and melodies

secrets or simplicities to be murmured into

tenative heart and ears

only the flat shrill of my incistant ramble

turning over ever more irrlevnet dreams

stroming through your mind

as plain to me as your eyes

glazing over into the beyond

and the beyond welcomes you

because the beyond dosent care about you

 

and i believe i do.....'