Drink The Neck

Saved this bottle of wine but

no idea who the hell

I’m saving it for

it’s all as blurred as the

painting I attempted

of the ravine caught in rain

so maybe I’ll just drink

drink the neck and wash

my bones of their pain;

It’s all blurred like the

Spanish death song I tried

to chord on my guitar

so maybe I’ll just drink

drink the hips

that will keep me warm;

I have no idea who the hell

I’m saving this old bottle for

so maybe

I’ll just drink

drink the toes

so I won’t have to think

tip a toast to alone

I’ll just pour.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

I'd say that bottle is a dead soldier. That's how it goes when you're drinking alone. This one reeks of loneliness

[JR]

A lot of loneliness, and yes, one very dead soldier.