Call me when you are sober…

Sober, dear perfection, you asshole, what is that?
Cleanliness? Free from blame? Ain’t sober people also dicks?
Is my habit, free flowing drinks that bad?
Do I/I know? Does/ did I know?
Should I?
Say yes or no? Shaken or stirred?
Am I shaken or dirt?
In goes the wine, over my parching lips, more that I want.
Is that All I want?
Yes and yes, light the taper right side up and light the smoke for my beautiful nostrils.
I am broken maybe, but I am honest about it.
That is differing side from sober, Mister perfect that absolutely ain’t missing it.
AAAAA I am repeating myself over and over, but I know that too.
It’s not like I dinna notice.
I do, I just don’t care, we all got our shades of red luscious passions, oh yes.
Mine is the luscious red and living in the past of yesteryear.
I Am Broken, but beautifully so, my souls patches do also mend. Not only when I am sober.
Magic isn’t free from dirt, it is with that dirt.
I Am fine again, I try at least.

Express Your-Self

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