When compared to the frothy taste
of the wet morning air,
the intoxication of alcohol
seems a lifeless passion.
To me, there is only ever one option:
to be numbed or to be ravished,
and that is why I drink from the
cup of the nighttime sky,
so that I may pass out in the
arms of heaven,
and wake at dawn
with a light in my soul.
There are all kinds of ways to be drunk,
but I prefer to be drunk on time,
driven half-insane by my desire
to beat the clock in our race
I have been unashamedly wasted
on the shore of the ocean,
drinking in the sea like a fine liquor,
and I have walked, a true alcoholic,
along the edges of life, staggering
my way to the future with a bottle
of poetry in hand.
And it is that kind of drunkenness
that I could happily die of,
a heart perched on the branch of my addiction,
jumping into eternity through the bliss
of my sweet insobriety.