His mind rants, drunken, tequila,
winter in a cardboard box,
she’ll kill ya.
Your blood’s gonna turn
to icicles and then the sun’s gonna set
like creamsicles.
Your blue lips will open
to the sky, the booze
on your breath will evaporate
as you die.
Godhole never filled. Love & the only
prayer you had remaining—denied.
Powerful! It reminds me of addiction...of Gary..floating dead on st. Marys. We don't always get another chance
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