“The Whiskies of the Past”

Beethoven playing the opposite
of a lullaby at 7:37 AM,
while my coffee chases away the night
with its sensible eight hours of sleep
(still broken
as a drunkenly dropped glass),
putting to sleep the whiskies of the past,
when blacking out felt like a light bulb
in some great cartoon colored idea
I believed must be my own
original thought, only to wake up,
knowing if I had an artist’s pallet,
then my life would be painted
chromatic black.