Drunk

Drunk

Humanity is such a fragile thing.

It quietly bubbles under our blistering tongues.

Fizzing in the hot baking sun.

Of our brittle hearts.

Choking our grasp on reality.

The meaning which we strive to find.

And the belief we pretend to be blessed with.

Sting hollow veins with morning breath.

A tyrants tear in late May's bloom.

A tender touch of human thought.

Blessed are we who follow truth.

For light wanders not into into darkness,

But into black.

On which our heavy hearts migrate,

Into tar burdened shoulders,

Shrugging endlessly into horizons grasp.

Holding our fingers while we dangle.

On the verge of sanity's depths.

Forever mourning on the thin reach of God,

Who holds our souls within eternity.

Forgive us for our sins.

And lay us down to rest.

For only you will ever know,

The taste you made to give life breath.