obliged to all
my brain dissolves
in New Year’s wine
in champagne’s fine
in chocolates and delicacies
that palates must attend
to such distress as tongues
and taste without refinement
as we pursue a state of sheer inebriation
without a hint of what the morn shall bring
in pain and torture
as heads collide on pillows softer
than an angel’s hand could lend.
Oh, we are, doubtless, a species of abuse!