I am not supposed to but I am cheering the blurring tunes
cheering the sounds that draw my lashes
with soft la la – la la – la la through the dawn
grindingly wrestling cubed ice with my not so old molars
thinking of how and why I lost those gains
even though my toasting glass look fluidly gold
every moment tastes like death but feeling nothing risky
but just cheering to the blazing windy flames
and another cheers to the one that assembled the blend
toast to the reasons I am happily disorganized
high sips of  juicy and hot quencher in a devastated joy
enjoying the galactic bonding of oxygen with carbon
producing heat that refuses to tale with the woods
and never fearing the boldness of my confusions
such a heavy stitched feeling widely streaming
this time the moon does the shooting
while the stars join the cheering glasses
and there are no skipping tracks; everything is self-melodize
so it is lo lo – lo lo – lo lo over that unfading bonnie bonfire
senselessly sensing the “Johnnies” of the “Walkers”
until all the whiskeys are cheerfully lullabied
a toast to drawn curtains, cheers to another lost war;
ashes to ashes, shots on my dying shots