I can feel that itching in the veins

To sugar coat with the arsenic glaze

Soft destroyer reapply the buffer

Chase the moon to an ethyl grave

Parched sun seep draw and quarter

The body landscape quakes

Bleed out repeat transfusion

Left wanting with the empty ache

Commiserate every peak and pit

Inebriate with a barbed conduit

Replay the impulse

The hand to the lip

Exhale and swallow

The tumblers will tip

To pour out the nights

And wring out the days

When the drought comes

We're scoured alone