by Patrick Marchildon

Created on: June 05, 2008   Last Updated: March 01, 2011

Like a Bottle of Cheap Whisky

Cheapened by yesterday and ripe
Each sip brings the bottle closer to its end
The inevitable opening of a new bottle lingers
As my mind's parasitic juices remain medicated.

I have lost all kindness
I am sick of being apathetic
The mirror disgusts me to the point of gagging
I am living an unjust experiment of man

There is never any pleasure in the sun
There are only pointing fingers and snickering
They pretend to be in control
Think they know the contents of my paper bag

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