the gin blues

being drunk
is no fun. maybe for ten minutes
of lucid
hilarity
and twisted wisdom shouted
out into
an unlistening world,
but then
the world spins,
and gin doesn't seem
to be your friend anymore.
you are flying
in outer space,
floating
among the dampened stars,
the sparks
of your brain
begin to pulsate
as the vice squeezes
down.
what was in you,
consumed during the past week,
has a strong and urgent
desire to leave.
being drunk is no fun,
not for you
are anyone
within arms reach.