Will it ever end?

Cold is the floor I lay on
Cold is the heart I bear
Cold are the thoughts in my mind
Cold is the soul I am entitled

Drunken by spirits,
Drunken in pain
Drunken in despair
Drunken in plans

The floor by hour is colder,
The bottle by hour is emptier,
The soul by hour is drunkt
The male by hour is hornier

Turgidity, turgidity, turgidity
Overwhelmed by it
Overthrown by it
To a world unknown
To living and to dead
Until one’s encounter…

Betroven by life’s meaninglessness,
Overwhelmed by vengeance
A mind murders a soul
A heart is mended by fantasies

All through the night
‘Till dawn’s cold comes unbearably
A drunken heart, soul, mind and body
Get on with a day’s work
As though no night was there
As though a floor was no bed
As though a Spirit was no dinner
‘Till dusk sets its place
And the monotony of the night
Sets it’s pace


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