My Crimson Reality

Thanks for the wine, I'll be fine

Sober I'm a bore, that's for sure

A little tipsy, but oh so witty

Please do pour; don't say ’No More'



You are so cruel, alas

To un-slake my thirst

Hand over the sparkling bottle

Or bring me my hearse



Crimson is the color

Firm is your grip

If I can pry it loose

The nectar I will sip



Don't be such a prude

I'm in control

I assure you my friend

I have kept my soul



So be generous, be kind

To an aged dilletante

Let me be so befooled that I find

I am another Kant



How empty is what is Me;

But I can fill it tonight

With what you withhold

Can't you spare a mite?



Must I go home rational?

You're not helping me

In closing my eyes

To my insipid reality.