The Drunken Poet

 "The smell of ink is intoxicating to me- others may have wine, but I have poetry." -Terri Guillemets


I
Stumble.

Fumbling
In a drunken rage
Tearing through page after page
Ever the more engaged
At the words placed before face

The TASTE...

The taste more intoxicating than the finest wine
Aged, perfectly timed

I dare not decline
For fear that all that is dear will fall away like a tear

I breathe this

This thing that many see as a game is how I maintain
Mind frame untamed
After a glimpse I lose grip

I
Trip.

Plunging into adjectives and verbs
Words never before rehearsed

Unheard....

Un-nerved
I take another swig
From a flask masked by the Alpha-
Bet you have never indulged in the likes

Think twice
Before you dare to out drink me
This peak is seldomly reached
Shit, this Poetry got me geeked

Suddenly the ground doesn't feel so steady
My heart becomes a bit heavy

And I
WRITE...

Write while regurgitating from a buldge caused by the overindulged

I Let Go..

Collapsing into a drunken stupor

I

Let

Go


.... given way to an intoxication that only a true poet would know....



Miss~Shank