Drunk Advice From A God

the days are pouring nectar down my throat so thick and sweet that it makes my teeth brittle in exhalation to life

and he tastes like spiced wine, in-toxicating and scalding as he elevates me the way a lift carries you as high as you ask it as high as it’s able

He laughs: Burn Your Feet flying through inexorable hours you once spent languishing in despondence

Reach out with both your hands for Death and screech your joy when She recoils, smiling