eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die
a mantra to contra the miseries,
one i’ve stolen to justify— handcuffs and tears.
spent time on wiping floors
found hatred at the beginning of opening doors
grasses started to go through skins
and the world slackened within my pining for escape.
tilted perspective, somehow subjective
confused and abused by own self-disruptions
clink the glasses, blink through scenes
walk pass mirrors to strengthen belief
delusions are what you can eat
but i’ll drink to contra miseries
tomorrow we might die