From above, night falls. The dead wander for truth.
No claw finds purchase in veils of darkness.
Drink motherfucker, drink motherfucker.
Deep hues of green and blue, of brown and grey
swim and swill away.
Draw a card, realign time in games of rhyme.
Bittersweet burning, an abyssal touch
suffices as such.
The game’s unnecessary, forgotten
by the morning light, stupefied, starving,