swig of swill and bittered bite
delicious sweet as darkest night
barefoot dreams i walk unspied
upon griefs shadow of candlight
me again and rotten grapes
in a bottle, poured to sate
the deep desire we find to feel
a human twinge or something real
but those of us wed now to night
are borne to singluar delights
to weep and grieve, or drink and fight
we are first cousins in family ties

And here again i do you wrong
presume to much and speak in song
pretend my hurts are every wrong
and our grief shared, and losses one
ive never met a single face
of the multitude ive shared these states
with, yet in poets hallowed place
ive shed my grief and shared your grace
so yes, another drunken eve
spent with my friends ive never seen
but greatful nontheless to grieve
with dark poets and apertif