A fain susurration in my ear
perambulates throughout my mind
A mazy path it winds, obscure

Bibulous, these thoughts of mine
to escape the bile of reason
I seek to find my quietus
A tchotchke that eludes me

The yeasty thoughts it prays upon
Bilious and green
The trinkets of my sanity
Are lost to me, ergo I'm free

To listen to those words inside my head
Of inveterate persuasion
The half-formed thoughts devoured
An empty-head, a drowned out voice
And the bubbles rise as ghosts

The End

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