Free Labor

The reach of your hand places a price tag

for

to venture out inebriated

is an escape warranting punishment

protracted,

a silent assassin, lurking in the sober dark

I restore my hand out

of any missives of choice I may have lent it unto

for I was a thief stealing moments I did not have

The craft I took credit for belongs to a man I could not be on my own

And credit is due in entirety

to a bottle of wine and a keg of misery

Not friends, and not those I would desire

to associate myself with in any work of art or science

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One Response to “Free Labor”

  1. foinika Says:

    nice. 🙂

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