Sheets soaked from nights’ excess
Spirits still lingering in my head
Tongue tasting of grassy dew
I feel a cold morn coming
With hours of night left and heat still in the hearth
My kidneys wake me and beg for relief
Fumble for tinder and look for my pipe
I force feet to cold floor
Fall towards door
Bare my arse to the world
Stumble through the backyard
Water the tree that holds me up
Say goodbye to the heavens night sky
What a good day to die
Bladder emptied
Tobacco inhaling
Sun rising
Your scent as I crawl back in bed
On second thought
Maybe a good day to not
Great day for a Picnic
