Testo Treble Hook

I can feel that itching in the veins
to sugar coat with the arsenic glaze
soft destroyer reapply the buffer
chase the moon to an ethyl grave
parched sun seep draw and quarter
the body landscape quakes
bleed out repeat transfusion
left wanting with the empty ache
commiserate every peak and pit
inebriate with a barbed conduit

replay the impulse
the hand to the lip
exhale and swallow
the tumblers will tip
to pour out the nights
and wring out the days
when the drought comes
we're scoured alone