Trashing the table in a five star room.
Because you’re too drunk, don’t fit in, don’t
have the A-list status nor dollars Dubai level.
Pounding pavement till your knees give out.
Because you posited the pledge as such,
You’d rather die than be a boring pussy.
Getting stabbed, landing in the hospital, twice
Because you’re too drunk, but conveniently
enough, so you won’t remember a thing.
Smiling maniacally about it all like the
Cheshire cat, as all collapses into a smoking
Oblivion. The Ghastly whispers of specters close
in on you, so your only escape is off the cliff
no screeching free fall but a cove jutting out
just barely to save your life.
From this manic heap you descend in a smoking
haze, with a sardonic smirk, you want back Up.