Poles

The blue pill

Or the green

Did nothing.
The poles struck,
The tears rolled,
The wrists slit.
Broken smiles
Plasticised on face
Chugging wine
From an endless barrel.
What is this need?
What is this madness?
Hither and thither,
The ferris wheel turns. 
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Paradigm of Whiskey

We could’ve been alone together,

Solitude, I could’ve promised. 

Now I’ve a rope in hand. 
Tears rolling down,
Like a river I could drown in.
Jump off a cliff, 
Or soar like an eagle.
There is no breathing.
Lovely gardens and rainbows,
Rotting on the road to despair.
Longing from another time,
Now turned into scythe of death. 
* For nobody