Alcohol as a new laxative
It always did leave a sense of perpetual presence of the sublime
Yet with little faith expressed it never seemed to quench the insatiable hunger Iheld
The pain
The torment
The continuous agony
The voices and most of my sleep paralysis demons that had schizophrenic tendencies that displeased my poor soul
It seems to always make people disappear at night
Coming at midnight
With hung over zombie faces
That never pleases a traumatized, worried mother with 5 children to feed
Alcohol as anew laxative
Has left a lot of souls empty
And a lot of pockets petty
As it blinds the essence of the dying man
Leaving him oblivious of beauty
As he sends admonishing smiles with very little mild warning
His nose is complex
As he sniffs the aroma of the freshly decayed brewed beer by the road side
He hurries abruptly leaving his wife and sickly children to finish the scraps of leftovers
His hair is carried by the blithe of air
Whilst drops of venom drip from his grimaced face
Alcohol as a new laxative
Awakens a certain rectus
As rain of rhymes filled with gloom falls
It conjures an act of intimacy being a play of physical intertwine
Rather than the connection of two minds
Leaving a few to see the sun
Which leaves trails of staggering transgressions as they illuminate in the blinding sun
Alcohol as a new laxative
Has made barmicide's feast
Seemingly increasing the intercourse with sin and beer
Leaving nothing but a sense of abruptness
And a taste of bile sprouting out from the esophagus as a mere reward
With no personal significance.
We whisper sweet nothings in the cold condensed air
The laxative doing more harm in the empty room
It brings a flood of emotions
That leave a sense of insanity
As they enter into a realm that shall soon cease to exist
The intoxicated fool begins to have blur in vision
Whilst his mind is deceived by the idle devil by the rocks
He begins to bulge and gallop a stone-cold drink
That leaves his flesh satisfied
Leaving his soul mystified
YOU ARE READING
A shadow of silhouettes
PoetryAs humans we paint a fabricated picture of who we are and what we stand for. We are caught in pits of hells as we try to impress the status quo of a today society's...
