Fridge Poetry 15 - The divine binge

Don’t believe a word when you’re

with a miserable drunkard that has a

goblet full of life.

Every night he will tell you:

trust me,

I got it this time;

believe me,

tomorrow I got it

and come morning he’s looking for a handout

like some lost dog,

always alone because he finds his love in

rivers of poison.

Drinking doubles with god

will do this to you.