Sense Sonnet - Acher

 
Wreck"creation

A bacchanal at home alone,

I impignorate myself to

Bring in the New Year with my own

Fine poetry creations true.

The more I write the more I drink,

Oh so many bottles of wine.

Must have a quire of gems I think,

Written down my poetry fine.

Pen in one, glass in other hand,

Both saccadic now do appear.

Wine spills on my rainsook shirt and

Still an hour to the New Year.

A tittynope of wine no doubt.

I chug it down and then pass out.