After a Bottle of Merlot

(Written December 1, 2010, 9:20 pm, at age 23.)

Tears flow free,
And you are me,
And I am dead,
And all is red,
And my breath stops,
And my heart drops,
And I exhale,
And I fail.
And the gap
With your trap
Catches me,
And I see
That I need,
And I bleed
Between your teeth.
You are the wreath
Laid on my grave.
I am brave.
But I am dead,
And all is red.

After a Bottle of Riesling

(Written November 27, 2010, 1:50 am, at age 23.)

A little peanut in my fingers,
A glass of wine on my breast.
A pain or few yet lingers,
A longing ache in my chest.

A furious burning behind my eyes,
A fighting freedom for the truth.
A suspended state of lethargic lies,
A wondrous waste of yawning youth.

A trap laid in full earnest,
A victim I knew to be me.
A delusion fully serviced,
A life allowed to be.