Drinking the warm wine of old wounds relived
Transgression's past returning in cycle
And, drunk on my apathy,
I trudge across the sands
Without feeling in my feet
Drunk enough to forget
Wine can't quench a crying tongue
Calling for water in the desert
Author's Notes/Comments:
Another poem found in an old notebook I hadn't looked at in a long time. It was intended as a possible addition to the poem "I Wept in the Desert," but did not seem to fit in with the rest. I don't know what I'll do with it but I'd like to do something with it at some point.