Saturday, November 21, 2015

"Brut(Redux)"

We're loving this past our limit.
Knowledge of right and wrong
has nothing to do with it.
Homage paid displayed
on trays with silver handles...
that we've never had to handle.
Thank goodness as we mishandle
every thing that we toast to.
I'm supposed to
treat our truths with tact,
ignore when you overreact
and enjoy in spite of the fact
that you've knocked over three bottles worth.
Bottles work well when they want to
like when I want you
and you've no will to decline
or like when we chase the silence,
an extra bottle is fine
or like when we spark the violence
and our actions define
that of a perfect disaster.
I talk
but you shout faster.
I walk
but you run faster.
She confronts
but he outlasts her
and the world notices.
All we know is this
besides the bottom of the glass
and the crash that is yet to be explained.
Maintain condition.
That pain commissioned
to replace a powerless persuasion
inclined to that of sober minds
so to find room for another campaign
for that case of champagne
makes these red and gold stains
almost completely worth it.
Drink until we find perfect.






















"Brut(Redux)"

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