poems written on the fly

every night he drinks and every morning he wishes he hadn’t

In art, d. james, literature, poem, poetry, writing on 24 October 2007 at 6:27 am

Loosing his edge
like a thread
that unravels
your sleeve

Drunk but maintaining
his balance by
closing one eye

He makes it through
another night of lies

Hums a tune
he can’t remember
the words to
but he loves it
just the same

(D. James)

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