Portfóliók

 pour me the spirits then,
o sweet friend of mine:
i am sinking in hellish heaven
so need not the sublime.
i once was a burdened man
one to reflect and think,
now but hollow and spent,
free to howl, cuss and drink:
one secret too many to repress
so i swear and i drink in excess.

loved me, you spirits of air,
unchain'd and whole and divine;
how now in solo and disrepair
do i stray so afar from the line?
i once craved the ethereal,
pure in essence and delight,
so how the flesh, fiery and feral
stripped my angel-wings in flight?
one is a poor number to caress,
so i make mortal love in excess.

built me castles, my ambition has,
made me master and chief;
how is it now, i let it all pass,
and i became a beggar, a thief?
whither the glory? whither the rust?
which temper suits me true?
fade out gently? or with a blast?
i have no answer there. do you?
so to feel, to think, to love, god bless,
to suffer -- i need it all... in excess.