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Hammered

09 Nov

Savory, smoky, chilled acid
sloshing on chipped rocks
diluting only for the tongue.
The head winks at the strength.

Again and again, repeating
the fluid motion from bar
to parched lips, collecting
glasses aside while angles
and demons silenced their
chirping mouths. For once.

Movement is daunting. A
spellbinding act as a feathered
body is forced to carry a thick
frozen head about. Inevitably,
it lands on the floor. Thud!
Head aches. But I can’t feel
my hands.

Slowly discovering my lower
limbs, the puppet master
begins its act of coordinating
the disgraceful marionette.
Some distant laughter, obnoxious
echoes within my mouth and
churns in time with the stuttering
blasts of nonsense uttered in
voluminous rants.

I remember a toothy smile and a
strong gentle hand brushing my
hair aside. Then the morning
came in to sting my eyes.
Go away.

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