night is no longer mysterious and free
but hidden and anxious
a time for counting hours
slippery condensation of whiskey and rocks
i wake in the morning feeling mugged
as though i was clubbed in the head
and someone stole my time
but unjustly no crime was committed
if the curse of immortality is bloodthirsty
there are endless vermin in the world
send them my way to drain and a bottle
then just whisky and words and howl at the moon
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