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The Deadly Gentlemen
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The Splendor of the Bender
Oh, I've got liquor corroding my throatpipe,
I surrender to the bender I'm floating up mote-like,
Reveling in the pleasure of the poisoned brain,
That time-tested ratio of joys and pain.
That mash made in heaven and torn from the stover
Opened a trove of emotion unknown to the sober.
I did not know nor care where I headed,
I shall have fun and live to regret it.
Traveling at a totter in a typical drinkcraze,
I happily trod the more and more difficult brinkways,
So wasted even the taste did seem savory.
God, you're twisted but oh,
You favor me.
I danced all night with a demented intensity,
Then down down to the floor I descended insensibly,
My liver so laden and swollen so portly,
That no two legs in the world could support me.
That bender turned dire and vile,
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Up from within me came spiring bile,
And spasm after spasm of the abdomen jaggedly,
Staggered me with daggerlike jabs of agony.
My forehead to the floorboard,
I mumbled toungueless,
To the wonderful underworld of footfilth and fungus,
That abounded around me in a slanted fantasia.
Till even my groaning gave way to aphasia,
And the swirling of the turpitude above me,
Faded away.
I opened up an eyelid... lovely!
I'd made it to day.
My turgid head tender from that bender's battery,
So fragile even a thought too shocking could shatter me.
The telltale stainwork outlasted the bastardies,
My pristine shirt now an abstract masterpiece.
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