Pots full of Wine

 

What went bad, who went mad,

Life's a poisonous repetitious bore

Haunted by the ghosts of past;

Tearing my flesh apart each night 

Drinking my blood poisoned with memories 

Blowing into my ear

All the lies and truths 

Of a life long lived. 

I cannot wake up from this nightmare 

When the eyes are sewn shut.

My lashes glued with some sticky incantation to the skin.

Open them! You say,

I cannot, how can I 

The devils waiting to pour wine into them.

I see them waiting at the doorstep 

With pots full of wine;

"To celebrate the dead" they say,

I feel my lungs shiver

Inside my flesh I feel 

A fire blazing 

An iceberg freezing.

Take me, no! Leave me

I want to yell at them 

I cannot I fear 

They have pots full of wine 

To celebrate the dead.