Absolute sobriety.
Based on suggestions this is the only path.
Core-crushing deplorable thirst is the only math I calculate.
Dipped in alcohol, left out to dry,
Ether reeking from my pores,
Filled to the brim, Jim.
Grasping for swizzlesticks,
Hunched over a greasy mahogany bar,
Illiterate, immune, insufficient.
Joyful for the first few,
Kind for just a couple more,
Later on I’m laid out by the jukebox near the door.
Might I step back a bit?
Never.
Only when the sirens wail.
Police shall be the release,
Questioning my values,
Ramming me headfirst into a cruiser,
Subduing my wrists and ankles,
Taking me downtown.
Unless I change, this is the outcome.
Very unlikely that either shall happen.
We’ll just have to wait and see.
X-rays will later determine whether there was any abnormalities,
Yet aren’t we all abnormal?
Zero arguments from the peanut gallery.
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