Midnight hiding in the timid might of das Ding an sich
in the thing-in-itself thin mint cookies hint to my mind
dim with fatigue hit upside the head by dint of liquor
nitwits like myself lacking one digit on each hand hit
into the nature of noise and language as spirit the id
gin-soaked reclines in contemplation of suicide to die
however requires strength of will or a sense of timing
trapped between a pillow and those dreams to follow
Espresso presses the soul to repose amongst roses
sores appear from distractions whilst eating the lips
pose a problem on the meaning and reasons for pain
rope in the form of a noose never resolves this issue
engaging with eros and thanatos as love sees death
solve riddles a Sphinx poses to spores of prose poets
seers prophets posers and the press toss pesos out
on the street before they take part in a shooting spree
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