Ode To The Flask Poem by luke holt

'we the people'.......
.....'and then god said'......
...'thoust shall not kill'.......
...'i hearby sentence you to'................

it all sounds the same when echoed through the ghastly oblong shaft of an empty bottle.
so bereft of substance and

H
O
L
L
O
W
with stillness, .
a glistening infant droplet of silver vodka drizzles with moon-like tragectory around the tear that soaks my coarse, sallow visage
like a hovering wraith across a phospherescent burial ground
like clear old eyes skimming across the musty pages of a deadman's book.
as i wander through the asphalt deserts carrying a pint flask like a talisman
the street signs are runic to my bleary eyes, every dropp brings me joy, and every tear brings me numbness
a limber stray cat struts by and cowers as i stagger to grasp it's mammalian warmth to my clammy fingers
it scapes my exposed fingers and a dropp of amuzing red plasma oozes out playfully,

another swig should numb the sting
another love should numb my heart

the bottle's dry as a eunich's condom
and now the scavanger hunt begins!
like a clumsy buzzard i look on the sides of streets and behind putrid unkept dumpsters who, in inebriation appear to be complacent monsters, for a bottle discarded by some wreckless hooligan who may have tossed/dropped it getting blown by his scantily clad fifteen year old girlfriend, i find nothing but a half smoked USA Gold clip and an old syringe, ((my veins are plump and junk free, when we get a rapper for president, then we'll talk))
and so almighty flask of blackluster nectar
you have spared me another night of sollitude
cause when there's you
i'm not the only person who cares about me