My love for you was like wine
And as they say,
I'm an alcoholic
Now that you've left me,
You can say you've met her
Mother earth, glorious god
The amnesiac of sleeping darkness.
Sometime I'll stop on by
We'll
Chug the wine when I
When I see you again, so see you then.

If your golfing card was your final footprint,
Then we're all happy to die

I cannot get out of my mouth
I am yet to taste my tears
Breathe, they say,
Breathe.
Papa,
I miss you.
I think I'm on stage four?
I've been grieving with the speed of forgetfulness,
I cannot sleep until I hear your,
Knuckles on my door,
Ankles

Your final goodbye to me
Was simply your hello.
I never said farewell,
But good morning,
I was never born to know people die,
You’d go golfing, you said
And yet, I still must go to bed
Whilst I imagine your goodbye,
Knowing you are dead.

Hours, screaming at maybes I've lost.
I love him,
My final leg is a suave voice,
Closely convincing, that
He's watching me from above-downunder,
Charred by our fear of seeing his body.

Smearing my ankles with his legacy,
I think he is there in sequestered suffering,
I don't know why,
But that is comforting.
Papa,
We know beer is cheap,
And sativa is the best.
Wine waltzing will be for a fat pocket and a casket,
Please wait patiently until then.
If you need to, hit a fat, fat joint.