held tight in its grip

 

the wine sheds
it's skin and the
morning is sick
with a hangover

the birds in the
trees are snipers
waiting to take
the kill shot

the grey smoke
rising from my
Italian cigar is
tired and listless

there are no bulls
around, but there's
bullshit everywhere

I would like to escape
to a place where the sun
sings and the drinks are
poured deep and strong

I do not know when
laughter will
return

I do not know when
daylight will
return

I do not know when the
heart will feel
again

winter never leaves
now

as I hold the hand
of poignancy

that creature:

misery,

has found me

and will not let
go