Poet's Poem

The sky is pissing
steel drops
that depress me
in the numbers that they fall.
With love on its way over
my finger bleeds from the foil
of a wine bottle
I'm drunk off the blood of Jesus
how can drinking be a sin
the more drunk you are,
the more Jesus you have in you.
the ice cubes chatter like cold teeth
the glass perspires
the wine is sweet
the air outside is moisturized
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,
you were a good man.
poetry is the ultimate evil
the glass is empty
but so is life
right now
what is new?

by Carl A.I.

Other poems of A.I. (35)

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