Drink

The idiot twirls on the leather stool
He knows to well of life and loss
He is the fly
His drink, the spider
Trapping men in its web
Slowly sucking life blood from them
Their only friend, their greatest vice
And therein lies their misery
hating the next drink
But paying for it anyway
Not with green wrinkled paper
But with their soul and potential
The fool stumbles off the stool
Muttering curses at the world
He trips and falls
Drenches himself in sticky beer
He comes to lie prone, inert on the floor
The next thing covering is a white sheet
In life, every action has a consequence
If you decide to take the drink
It will turn around and take YOU!