whiskey

Cruel habit who chains us
to what we fear, and love
who blinds us to fate’s hard game.

Tight telephone bells in my
belly like fire, a coil of wires
send electric shoots to my tongue.

Your confession, my cue
to forgive. I can never tell you
anything because I am always

following your lead,
and my words fall behind like
spilt coins from a torn pocket.

Your futile dreams are
as rotted as my own.