There are many things I wish I could forget It wasn't Even me who placed those bets The cells Are gone and something here is left That wasn't there when he ran out of breath Revolving shots of things I don't condone An honest fact - I'm glad I haven't won Deservedly, » Continue Reading
Snow is rocks for Sips of whiskey Swallowed in the Perforations Watered down as Hours pass and Seasoned with decay Tastes of peat and Rotting meat and Aromas of The iron, cold, so Sweetly musks the Burn and dust, a Taste, that swill, worth chasing Drunk » Continue Reading