Close Encounters Poem by James Papastamos

I so encountered Death one eve
an empty bottle lie in wait;
Temptation filled my empty glass
such bliss, I drank to fuel much hate.

A razor's edge had ran its course
along my face, beyond its lure;
My cheeks like rose, its thorns as sharp
the rum was fine, but had no cure.

Now shaved and ready for the end
my throat was clear within its path;
A dropp of blood was all it took
I raised my glass and felt its wrath.

Each jagged piece, an open door
now born again, I died...once more