Wine In The Blood

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Treading water and being drunk

Submitted: April 01, 2016

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Submitted: April 01, 2016

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There is blood

          in the water.

There is wine

          in the blood.

And I am

          right in the middle

               of it all.

Laughing,

          waving my glass,

          as I tread

               in the calmness,

spilling more wine

          in the blood.

 

Where the hell

          did all this blood

          come from?

 

Boats full of people

          stop

 and offer

          to lend a hand.

Begging me,

        to board their

               vessels.

And when

         I refuse

they pour more blood

         in the water.

Offended

         that I,

              a man drowning

               in his own blood

               and wine,

would refuse

          their help,

          their pity.

 

But perhaps

          I enjoy it here.

And with the sharks

          beginning to circle

and the sun

          harshly,

          caressing the skin.

 

They all plead

          again.

"You will

          surely die,"

               they yell.

 

But I still refuse

 

If I do

          in fact

          die.

I would much rather

          do it here,

among this mess,

          of blood

               and wine.

Than out there,

          naked,

          burning,

               and full of my own shit.


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