Roof Top Drunk

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: December 16, 2011

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Submitted: December 16, 2011



Sips of a swig full,

An early Sunday morning,

The students you taught and the lovers you met,

Swirl smog in a blender of time.

You've found that ache ain't from your head, but your mind,

And you know why, you see why.

The bottle is guilty, so you've just run free,

Secretly hoping for justice and pain,

The glass is cut sharp,  but the spilt diamond is sharper.

You stomp on both with a heart at sleeve's length.

The street licks its curbs,


And you fall, 

Coughing and crying,

Mid air's sweet release. That is all.

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