swimming in beer

hey Giant,

the air reeks of cheap beer,

how many men can man you one man

pouring  all that down onto me?


Don’t throw your voiceless stares at me –

that empty glare,

a puzzled flash over my

hot head bubbling with words

confusion &

hopping frogs waiting to be picked up by someone –


Your hand scoops my brain out of its shell and

throws it up into the dark, dark night sky:


the frogs get lost; they never find their home again,

the shell of my head


dissolving in all that alcohol we

were swimming in been in the bin

for three years.


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