Sunday, 22 March 2015

Bottled by Grant Harbison

Fire in my belly
Icicled heart
Another swig of the bottle
Can’t go falling apart
Don’t want to be sinking
Into the bitter realm
Where twisted thinking
Predominates calm
Where darkness fills my head
Whispering fear
Playing on my dread
I don’t want to hear
Another swig of the bottle
To stop me succumbing
Drowning perception
Progressively numbing
Deadpan eyes
Feverish smile
Safe from the torments
At least for a while

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