Three beers, two bottles of red
And a stomach full of gin.
The Doors at full blast
And I’m ready to begin.
Inside my head words, images, ideas
Explode like literary bombs.
The greatest stories never told,
It’s a creative maelstrom.
My imagination is singing,
But my limbs have become lead.
The last shred of lucidity,
Sends me staggering to bed.
Morning rouses me from my coma,
In pain and bereft.
With a million brain cells in tow,
All the fantastical tales have left.
Posted in Poetry, Shocking Poetry, Writing | Tags: "The Doors", beer, Cocktail, gin, Poetry, red, wine
