Drunken Flowers

I'm determined
To never writing a poem while sober.
I like drunken words,
An artful blur,
No boundaries,
No sharpness,
Just a haze of syllables
Escaping my lips
Into the night.

Liquid courage
And liquid inspiration
Flowing through my veins
Fueling my creative fire
As inhibition takes a backseat
To the poetry within.

Sober is a place
Where words fail to bloom,
Dulled by reality,
Chained by logic
A prison of clarity
That suffocates
The wild spirit of verse.

The empty page taunts me,
As sobriety stands like a wall
Between my mind
And the liberation of expression,
Each line imprisoned
By the shackles of lucidity.

But give me a glass,
A bottle,
A flask,
And watch my words bloom
Like drunken flowers
Intoxicated by the freedom
That only inebriation can bring.

Never will I write a sober poem
Because the night whispers secrets
That sobriety could never comprehend,
And the ink spills with uninhibited grace
Across the canvas of the page.

Imagination dances in the haze
And the words flow effortlessly
As I drown my inhibitions
In the river of merry madness.

So pour me another drink
As I weave my way
Through the maze of drunken thoughts,
And let my poetry stumble
Into the realm of beauty
That sobriety could never reach .