BAD WINE
I hate New Years Eve and always will since the one when she left
But somehow it took me until the age of forty-four until I spent one
Like this past one, 2015-2016 was spent with a big old bottle of
Something real good
A top French red, Chateauneuf-de-Pape, which came home with me
Got drunk and subsequently put me off my usual routine for a couple of
Weeks as all other booze seemed to taste horrible and it made me
Realize that good is bad for me
Give me harsh, strong cheap red wine and I’ll drink it ever more
Until I’m drunk beyond my dreams and I’ll just carry on that way
Drinking gut-rot wine and spending my days being out of my mind
Being as bad as the wine I drink.
MIND FUCKED
My mind is spliced
As the words I spew are fucked
My mind has lost its will
My words simply capitulate
My shoes are piled high
Whilst my records are a mess
I use them to kill the termites eating my room
My flat just itches as it’s devoured
But still my words remain fucked
Three joints before breakfast
Leaves my mind real fucked-up