we, harbourers of wild aspirations,
drunk in subterranean drinking dens.
red raw throat cries of illumination
by golden light of flickering candles
in wine bottles, wax dripping onto tables,
ice crackles and melts into warm whiskey.
we, sots of a wasted generation
viewing the earth through pint glass monocle.
high definition dreams spewing from mouths
with our eyes red as the surrounding brick.
our thirsts satiated with cheap liquor,
we knee jarred swagger, blag paths to nowhere.
our anaesthetized minds float, swirl skyward,
our words smash sink in stormy purple seas.
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