Drunk and among the dead;
I study the perfect silence,
feeling welcome
greeting the pale hand death extended in the yard.

Reserved, superlative seat on the express too the afterlife
collision of flesh and pain.

Tired eyes, heavy trance in thought
this final act has no encore
no light after night.

Inside the bottle, jester spirits laugh
a concoction of doses swimming in my liquor
everlasting restless words of the shadow souls
are loud this time of night.
not enough to drive you mad.

We talked; and our conversation was in Latin
until the bottle was polished
I stare man not in the face but the resting eyes of wise allies
this life was my misfortune; death is my fame
clapping with praise
the play is over.  


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