Drinking day

Night is young
No song been sung
fate is ready
hands still steady

bottles to come
dozens and some
drinks to flow
cigars to blow

fires to glow
fast or slow
hours to spare
drinks disappear

hands now tremble
mind slightly ramble
not sure of place
earth or space

silk or lace
pure blank face
walking in race
back to the base

nothing is certain
hit random curtain
open and shut
talk and strut

red blue screens
white coats seen
where I am
where I have been

hospital in seems
bruised and cut
brain in rut
pain in the butt

no laughing matter
can’t do better
see you later
certainly

same pub
different night
ready for
another fight

I meant flight,
tongue’s slight
Nothing is right
must have taken

some substance light
Yesterday, today
Hmm…
I am not sure anymore