So he sucked on the double bock Wanting to obliterate, Waiting for it to Clean the slate, Leaving his senses Open to the Wonderful sights and sounds That only a nice buzz rides. He half-reclined waiting for it To clear his mind of its clutter And the visions of sugar plums that Danced in his head were soon Whisked away to be replaced By the brutal, harsh Dry bones of life Rattling in his brain; Bones that jangled and tangled Their way past his lips with the Cacophony of sound Resounding off the walls. With a mighty roar they clattered To the floor Where he could see them Writing out his life in the dust; Swirling ever faster until Breaking to pieces They lay with their Fragments quivering. And he could only look at what They had written and Laugh like the maniac He had become Until the whole world receded Into oblivion.