Dry Eyes


I drank four cups of bourbon
And did not cry
Should someone be proud?
I am no golden child
I am a half empty cup of air and water
But I was raised with the benefit of fearing no god
So I have had to take ownership of most of my actions
I have commanded no rooms to turn away
Found no comfort in lost words
I have shaken the walls of night with sighs of agitated apathy
Demanded substance be held higher than form
And never listened
The rays of tommorows creep upon my fingertips
Doing pirouettes and swearing spelling comes easy
The cradled remains of broken-toothed lovers
All that stands in the way
Of truth at last standing trial
There has never come a day I did not doubt
But there have been dawns
I am sure
Now here at summer's end I discover nothing
Now here I sit
Drinking but not crying
A cup of air and water
Left unsealed

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