Like a Kabob

Living is nothing but death
without a grave to swim in  
kinda like a kabob  
to hold on to
 
sobriety is a wild card
taken away my ambitions
to sing with crickets  
and bow with Beau Jesus  
 
terror is screaming
horror is being scared  
six steps downstairs  
where worms charm
 
before the evening of my wake
dipping crackers at my clambake  
as brains turn to chowder
with bones in the mascara