Remembering that feeling
after the 5th drink
when the walls began to move
and Life begun to stink
Everything subconsciously hidden
seems to be driven
screaming to the surface
faster than a cocked fist
Watching the dogs turn on you
grappling anything within reach
over turned tables
bottles sporting chewed labels
Chandelier dancing
swinging back and forth
the dogs are escaping
racing through the back door
When will this sorry world
ever struggle back into focus?
all the pieces fitting together
like some spoken hocus-pocus?
Instead of fist imprints
forever marred plaster
marking territories
another violent story
Everything seems senseless
therefore, it impresses
becoming part of the scripted news
hell bent to detract and detour
from a Greater Truth
Author notes
written 11/4/09
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