Wine for breakfast

[Lysander Gray]

When you wake up
for the first time
after a weeklong bender
besotted by barbarism,
brought by the bottle and the poke ;
the television screaming with
second rate ads
and cut throat capitalism -
You realize you might have a problem.

When your heart is broken
by someone you were never
really sure you were dating,
and love only comes as a way to stave off loneliness
and a mad drummer moves into your spare room
after 6 months exile, it becomes obvious to have
wine for breakfast.

The haze of a silver screen starlet beams across
50 years, still alive and dripping with sex.
Enchanted by her nebulous eyes
calling to recall a passionate evening
rolled in sand and sea foam,
distant city-lights bathing everything silver and timeless-
hair the colour of sunset,
hands the skeletons of birds,
lips the colour of wine
playing Rhapsody’s across my flesh.
Confusing love for lust again.

They say that “Love is the only cure”;
It’s also often the cause.