Solitude is drunk.

My friend is a very, very clever young man.


Solitude is drunk,
Poetry written in solitude is drunk,
Love in solitude is drunk,
Dreams in solitude are drunk.

Gazing at a nights poetry through a hazy glass
When the twilight is bruised,
By the dreary light of day,
All that is left are drunken linear grooves,
Sunken, is a familiar poison.

A man so drunk that he cannot love another,
Hung by his own will for the crime of starvation,
Only time will remind him that in love,
He is still alone.

Dreams are drunk in solitude,
Policed by Walt Whitman,
And dreamt by a dreamer,
So ill that it swells and kisses the good morning.

Then to awake in solitude,
And to untangle the poetry,
There sits Walt Whitman, with a bottle and glass saying
"Seize the day...Seize the day!”

Drage Lyon.



Today is going to be as lame as toast with no butter.
Rammstein playing in the background of my house is only the beginning!