2.0 Last Drink

Writing deteriorating

as the ambiance wades

into that catatonic,

solipsism.

 

These my siblings, nonetheless

caveats, about caveat

tears into the emptying

bottle.

 

These bottles, as if

a chalice, hides the

contents

But it is all, and

walk  my friend, my

left brain, my brother

Yet and yet, and…

…Yet..

Through pseudonyms

‘I’ age, age, til,

until…

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