Soft to the Touch

I've been out chasing the storms

that nobody wants me to follow along.

a couple of drinks and then whoooshh

there's no need to push me,

I'm already gone

now that I live here alone

there's nobody home to cushion the blows

and now the dark sets in the most,

I turn to my ghosts to laugh and to joke

/

In this town, leafy and drenched,

I slouch on the bench

with my thirst to quench

that I couldn't stop if I tried

no word of a lie,

I am entrenched.

but there's no need to voice your concern,

this money I burn at least is well-earned

so I pour til the darkness ascends,

I grease up the lens until this all ends

/

the edges, then soft to the touch,

are easy to clutch

and that is enough.

today, though, the ripcord has slipped

from my feeble grip

and it got too much

and I cringed all the way to the bank

and there my heart sank,

my balance was blank

so I went back out into the wet

still full of the blues

and into the red

I tilt back my head on my neck,

full of the blues

a bottle of red