Don't be worrying about me, this is old.

----------------------

Alone, on the darkened rain-damp streets
I stumble, drunk with rage and tears
Falling facewards on the hard stones.

The angry burn of my nepenthe, found
In cheap cheap scotch and teary-eyed
Regrets, is no real balm to me.

Only in the gutter, at my lowest
Despairing ebb, comes the revelation
Ask of any man his life, and gain one word.

Loss. All man's life is but this song
A chronicle of treachery and grief
Each man is betrayed by life.

In the first, he loses oblivion
The sweet bliss of amniotic unknowing
Wrenched into the harsh, bright world.

In the second, innocence departs
Torn from his arms by uncaring fate
Shredded and given to the winds.

In the third, love flits from him
the song growing louder, repeating
Each self-defeating refrain leading

Inevitable crecendo to the climax
As the one of all is torn away
Lost to the stillness of death

In the end, one thing last is taken
That life that tore him from peace
And this is a blessing.

Crawling on, rain drenched body
Stomach soaked with the high-proof
Balm of an inverse Gilead

Your name is on my lips
A hollow cry hallooed to the hills
Reverberate and unheeding

Regret of time spent, time given
In tempting, in luring on a timid tiger
With promises of throbbing meat

Regret of words-of-love wasted,
Wasted on an uncaring, weakling beast
Too scared to face his truth

Regret of heart's blood given
To an unworthy and undeserving love
Their scarlet wine now vinegar

Thoughts of vengeance for being
Wronged swirl in me, I have a chache
Of Iconographic weapons

Given as false proofs of love,
And hidden secrets else, that spilled
Might grant some relief.

There is no point. I am
Shattered, a phantom's vengeance
Has no point

He will endure, and I abide
In the gutter, placed again where I belong
Soaked in the liquor of tears uncried.