Clipped Birds

I dreamed of unwritten words,

Pairing well with fine Bordeaux,

And clipped wings of fallen birds,

Fingers wet with fallen woe.

 

My chest sinks with leaden weights,

Breathing is a luxury.

So, a gin to soothe my fate,

In spite of all this drudgery.

 

A rose petal fall slowly,

I embrace my winter skin.

In another world holy,

Fleeing from the beasts within.

 

Overindulge on liquor,

I can dance to this silence.

Thorns on a seat of wicker,

My vices, my reliance.

 

 

And then I dreamed of demise,

Pairing well with fine Grenache.

As thoughts travel clockwise,

Wasted as meager vinasse.