The gavel of ashes

The liquid in life,
Oh, too much all the time,
Flowing in cups and bottles,
Falling from the sky,
Bringing the cold to the bones like
A holiday alone.

But why this much liquid? Does
Life somehow call to it? Can we be
The ones to hang up the phone,
Take a nap and forget it was coming
Over tonight to get
In bed and wrap the chilling arms around
Whispering,
Convincing,
Grating,
It needs to set sail,
And all you would like to do is sleep.

There is a place to mind it,
It’s deep, like the dark tunnels of the
Subways,
Built my humans but inhabited by demons and living machines, a bizarre tale
Of us versus them, who will be stronger?
This dark place is where one can wrestle it, and win.

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