The longer we stay

The longer we stay

The harder it is to

Hold on

To the wine glass.

Snapping the stem

Grasping at straw men

Less than substantial,

Screeching out loud.

A bunch of old crows

Barely feathered

Fighting over scraps

Flying in circles.

Repeating the same patterns

Over and over

Banking on turbulence

To break the cycle

Of underachievement.

Old bones ground down

Gathered up

Released as light

Propagation.

Scattered from on high

Wind tossed

Sad sacks

Full of bonemeal

Looking for a good spot

To cultivate.

Salting the earth

Old stone jars held

In reserve

Blood red wine

Soaking into the fabric

Offered unto you

As recompense

For outlasting your betters.

Taking the long way home

Creating an exhibition

Of yourself

Making a statement

Giving a good impression

Before it is too late

To recant.