Abundance

Let me drink this vat house dry, prolong my agony, and kiss me. As far as the sunset can shine, loves-a-kind-of-tutelage; it's faith it's something we all have in abundance it's a reservoir we dam only to break. Who but I could laugh so loud and weep? Who but I could fill a brackish lake float-on-high, amidst the stars without so much as a tear to cry, and then row ashore only to die. Near-empty full of torment, thirst and rage I guess that's why there are so few poets now who know the meaning of what it is to be a 21st-century sage let loose out of their industrial glass cage.