Whisky

Brain is tired

All drained,  weightless 

Trying to see forward, darkness

Clutching, clawing, 

Shreds of light evade 

These fingers

Fingers that have scratched and struggled

Lungs that have tried to suck in air

Only to gasp in despair 

Drowning

Alive but not there

Semblances of humanity 

Memory lapses of hapiness

But I feel nothing, senseless

Looking at faces, and trying to face this

Like a person from the village 

Presented with a plate of cheeses

Laughter, I miss this

Try to smile

But my teeth chatter and sound like hisses

Go about the day dreaming of chocolate kisses

Eat a meal but it tastes like sand paper and weeds

Please

Crack a bottle of whiskey

Tip the bottle and kiss it

For a moment

A grasping moment

I’m alive and I feel it

Crawl down my throat

Stinging and burning 

I’m no connoisseur 

But brethren, messirs

Its amazing

Like a dragon

Breathe out fumes and catch on fire

Gaze at the bottle

Caress its outlines with my eyes

And resurect its deepest desires

Finger the rim of the glass

Swirl the ice

Sip 

Thats class

Shaken not stirred

Like Bond’s bond 

With the waitress

And I look into the night

Smile in the dark

Yes, I can beat this. 

Story

I want to write a story

Something sublime and eery

With characters lust and antagonists bitchy

A story with tears

Giving birth and bleeding fears

Emotions so wild

You imagine them in your chest here
I want to write a story

Where monkeys cook tea 

Acting stereotypically British, raising pinkies

A story warping time

And the characters wrapped in twine

Coctails of spider silk and crocodile milk

And whiskey of elephant sweat

Brewed to perfection in a termite’s pelt
I need to write a story

Of a limitless dream

Inception with an incentive

Make you ponder 

Dream of this with your collective

Wake up and pinch yourself

But the pigs are driving

And the horses cant stop belching

Soup of beetroot and a side of grass

Washed down with an octopus’ gas 

So you cry foul

Wake up straddling an owl 

Spreading its wings

Revealing a tattooed breast

Of a human doing summersaults

Spreading butter on a donkey crest
I need to write a story

Thats creative and calm

Like Mr. Krabs with a bucket of clams

SpongeBob with a pram 

And poor squidward 

Oh poor squidward had sex and got left with crabs

Not the disease you rascal

The crustacean, how terrible 
So I’ll imagine this story

Until it diarrhea’s out of my brain

And makes love 

With my paper and pen

But the problem is one and mundane

How do I start to gather my thoughts then? 

With pensieve like Potter and Snape

Or Dumbledore and with his cape

Oh severus

Sever us 

Avada kedavra 

these words sinking deeply 

the character removed her bra

But what words these are

Not an inkling

Barely a twinkling of sanity

Confused so much 

Sitting next to my dead granny’s tree
One day I’ll write a story

And it will make sense

No jibber jabber

Or peanut butter

With words getting butt hurt

As my fingers eat beans

And words proceed to fart. 

So I pray this plea

I may be tiny like a flea

With the imagination of a cow doing peek at me

Or a chorus of frogs that swallowed a boat

But one day

One day

My story will be.