Ended up
On Burgundy.
Been some time
Me and fine wine.
Subtle scents
Of trouble
Of strife
Of M16 whites
And AK reds
All followed by
Sweet sweet adrenalin Sauternes
Laid down long enough
Rapt in conflict
Picking up
Historically
Transmitted
Disesase
Sweet undertones of unadmissable addiction
Premier Cru
Adrenalin.
Pour
Pour it
Pour it
Mister Psychopath Sommelier
Give me the rush.
The wild psychedelia
Of the slightly off target shell.
Raise a glass to the dumb fuckers
For missing.
Missing
Missing
There’s something missing.
Waiter
Waiter
My soul is corked.
“What the fuck do you want me to do about it,” he asks
with that touch of Gallic disdain.
"You chose your cellar.
Now you go die in it.
And don’t come whinging to me
Looking for grapes
And sunshine
At this late stage of the game."
