Balancing a bottle of white wine
02/01 2023
Teetering on the edge,
Balancing so carefully,
You try to make your philosophy stretch
To the wedge you opened long ago so fearfully.
Not that you believe it,
You just don't know anything else;
Dusty libraries and billiard halls, dimly lit,
And words mirroring church bells,
The sounds contained within the martyrs of history.
You're a painting that lives forever
In the minds of mediocre misery,
Of having nothing to say without effort.
Together, huddling over the fire
Given to us what seems like forever ago
They conclude that everbody else is a liar,
And that life's woes are for not themselves to know.
You borrow the words from tomorrow,
But tomorrow an angel descends and says:
"Allow yourself life, and death shall crow."
You sit up and look at the surrounding mess,
You say to no one in particular, "But then how
did I spend all this money on this fancy dress?"