Empty Glass

In the dreary isolated night of scalded monotone there rings an echoing vibration of joy,

 Self loathsome hot and sticky, slimy, coating of grime, shouts of ignorance and feeble listening ears

   acceptance of redundant  meaningless accolades. 

Walls creeping inward trapping and isolating what is left of the sanity. 

Tiresome, Bothersome, Bitching of an aged drunken boy, unsatisfied standards of double, triple, quadruple quarrelsome quandary quaintly quilted, quirky, caustic and mind numbing. 

Words, loud and boring in my skull like a jackhammer rapping in my ears.

Laughter, laughter of an over grown beast satisfied by stationary glowing boxes of blathering masses of water. 

 Ramblings of ass and beatings and little golden drinks filling your insides with illusionary sunshine. 

Citric, sour and tart tastes left in the mouth from salted banter of booze in scrawny little men. 

Silence fills the air with the walls creeping outward in ecstasy, joy, happiness  and satisfaction.

Silence, the only sound that truly resembles peace and dignified meaning of absolute godliness.

Silence, the purpose for chaotic sounds of callous cowards and old crows.

Silence, the reason a man lives is to once again become silent.

Silence, the cause of worry and awkward woe.

Silence, the feeling of isolation......

Interrupted by the hacking, gagging, gurgling glossy spew of the beast. 

Falsified satisfaction subsided replaced by the conundrum of what is up is down and what is down was up, but if down was up how could up ever be down!?

The rotted smell of bile and tuna fills the air of water closets rested on spinning tops.

Filth covering the floors spinning and swirling and sinking into the porcelain goblet.

Cold, icy water rushing over the steaming, hot, slimy elastic exterior of the skeleton. 

The end is near, the silence looming, peace at last.