Last Supper

For this meal. Just one glass of wine. Helps to ease Mine Mind. Later a bottle of meths. Will put Head to Rest. All. One glass of wine... Remedy. Salve. Readily... Feel... Fine... Problems flutter... Escape... Evaporate mind... Contentment cementment... Peace plastered... Blind... Hands now Cease to shake. Cut free from Inhumane human Race. For this meal. Must always Common Sense steal. Drunken driver. Wilt sit Soon. Behind spinning Wheel. Just one glass of wine. Instantaneous intoxication. Sprung sponged mind. No more Found troubled times. With pain Could not confine. Upon alcoholic Joy chance wilt dine. Until shall Hell leave Troubled sober mankind? Any found tavern Wilt be mighty fine. Until will. Incinerate. Sloshed. Body shine shrine? Copyright © Terence George Craddock http: //www.poemhunter.com/terence-george-craddock/