Old Fashion

 

Ice in my veins makes me stay better in a cocktail

Is the reason I drink so many, stumbling through the streets

Of who-knows-what city scrawling on a bar napkin

If it is about the journey, then why have a destination at all?

Best not to synchronize swim in clouded water

Especially with wings picked of their quills

Nobody can even see my body melting up

From the bottom, I almost look human now

 

Published at The Wagon Magazine