Respite

A warning approaches from beneath the darkening storm clouds.  
I need a brief moment to toast my inebriated inheritance.  
My throat is raw, my neck tense and twisted.  
 
My heart is a landslide of angst.  
My heart races.  
My face blushes.  
 
The blood in my veins is thick with an ebbing flow of melancholy.  
I need to quench my parched thirst.  
A cruel hunger fills my heart with despair.  
 
I don’t recognize my shadow in the distance.  
I feel I’ve never appreciated anything in life.  
I’ve never honored my reflection, myself.  
 
Why does gratitude desert me?  
Where has my emotional eulogy gone?  
What will my final epitaph say?