Wreck

Talents wasted, voices
washed in weary tales,
booze and loss of memory;
perception crippled
in bars amongst the dead.

Jokes are often like excuses,
a curse that recurs
when least convenient,
a retreat, a break down,
an electric malfunction.

Weighed by years and wine,
by not hearing the herald,
signaling with red flags,
the wreck is rocked
to gentle sleep.

mitch
hi andrasidan - subtle alliteration and some sweet booze-drenched lines - the wreck is rocked, curse that recurs. i cannot believe you have so few comments! Mitch