Quite often things don’t occur as they should,
just like the scribblings on this bag:
We don’t ride the waves of drunkenness as we could,
instead we try to steer the impulsiveness of this nag.
The state of intoxiction, a gift to release all presure:
magnificent numb sensation, most precious painless treasure.
And then there’s the slowness of delay,
and the setbacks of the lag
like a horrid spell of the mind
caused by the most wicked hag.
Using petty excuses to have things to reassure
while we fool ourselves and find excuses without measure.