These Broken Bottles Poem by Patrick O'Reilly

My trembling hand makes a reach
For the secret I'm trying to keep
You can promise so often,
But it's been awhile
Since I slurred my speech, slurred my speech

The chanty that all old men croon
Down the alley ways, we know the tune
This sweet soma, silver,
By the light of the moon
And I bury it soon, bury it soon

This half-empty vessel's a waste
If it isn't the feel, it's the taste
We might regret tomorrow
What we do today
That makes us walk this way, walk this way

My fingers begin to ache cold
And every last sense has been sold
I might have sought this solution
In psychology
Instead I drink the sea, drink the sea

The shards of glass slash my heart
Like bright shining poisonous darts
I remember, once, ambulance lights
In the dark
That drifted apart, drifted apart

If we regret tomorrow,
What we do yesterday,
Why can't we walk away, walk away?
Why can't we ever walk away, walk away?