To cleave through the night
Like an butchers knife
Carving this very second
Exposing the bone
To sprinkle on it
That which fills my ears
The electric clink of silver on teeth
The boiling, brimming murmur between
Launching myself like a ship to sea
Through the aroma clouds
Stinging, clinging molecules
Of beer and ash
Dipping it into this glass
Ensuring my platitudes with the burn
That rolls down my throat, molasses-like,
Flesh-numbing, happy
Finally framing it with the walls
The corners of this stinking place
So it would never powder in palms
Clenched, losing
Then I would have you
