Your soul looked out from blood-shot glass <br />your fears drunk away for but a time <br />Plead for mercy from your desires <br />their blackness drowns in oblivion. <br /> <br />Do you ever lose your demons, <br />or do they dance locked inside? <br />Until you awake on sunday morn <br />as life comes crashing back. <br /> <br />Hang your soul on the toilet <br />paste your truth to the floor <br />Your head pounds for freedom <br />and spins your fears off again<br /><br />Patrick Wescott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sunday-morn-2005/
