Revised sonnet #95
Another crisis call the phone yields chirps
Out patient ego plainly underfed
I roll unseen eyes served up drunken burps
Ill visit pitied soul Im doomed to dread
The social service spare time mine usurps
I hug this drunk on her unruly bed
I suffer kisses hers in clumsy slurps
It culminates in bumps once head to head
At feet the bottles freed of flavoured gin
Tits hers their herbs perspire prop bliss
Their coriander and juniper I kiss
A hint of licorice I lap at chin
To black out senseless shell self medicate
The pills Ill bring I vaunt though very late
Chorus medicate dose fix
