nocturnal #8

dry throat
alcohol is no longer a savior.

the gloom of the night
can’t bury the void.

and the night invocations
are only pigs and whistles.

and the reminder of your valour
is a pair of stained bed-sheets on the floor.

go to sleep.

angels already gave up their wishes
and getting ready to be washed away to the oblivion
by the flood.

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