Douglas.

I durs't besay
One fateful day,
'One can't drink humans,
But one can be drunk.'
When I did willeth
My sorrow to be sunk;
To remove from my head
The want of being dead.
For I knew well sure
That I need endure
This life, if not for the sake
Of t'others whom could spake
Their love for me
In all their pleasantry.

And then there's he
Who would in more
Applaud my being,
Yet not abhor
My self-abuse; -
If not to pull up his own stoll
And talk with strife
Of all the shit he endures
And share with me his life -
My substance mis-use;
Incendiary noose:
Ways of making loose my
Hold on life
On this here earth,
Lest he could tell
I was w'out berth:

No longer a ship on
Tempest seas with a destination,
But a man overboard
With an inclination
To drown away the final thoughts
Of should'ves, could'ves, maybe-oughts
With the strongest of th' amber vice;
No longer with a hull to splice
The waves of oceans
Most reproaching
And the tides of days
Hastily approaching.

Thus is he, my Douglas, my friend
Whom I hope to know upto my end
And never to sever ties with him
And to treat what we have as whim:
For if he wakes't I cannot sleep
And if he sorrow, I too weep
For that is how good friends go
And thus is something I shan't just throw
Away, away into the day;
The decay,
And n'er think of what may
Have come of him & what could've been.
And regret that even in my dreams
And scream and scream until the seams
Of my life tear away and I cuss-
Cuss!
Cuss myself for losing my Douglas

by Thomas Dorman

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