'Reapers Keepers'

He tips  glass to mouth
engulfing sorrow's putrid ire
burping out,
whatever dreams held inside
as they've long since past expired

now seated,
embellished with disdain's girth
lying back as he watches within futility's glare
and with wearied eyes stare,  
he wonders wherever went his worth

his glass again
 he's tipping once more,
a glutton,  for release is now fully engorged
sensing he's awash in this vile,  
stench-like death
wondering how long til silence,
silences'  one's final breath...