Do remember,
to those onlookers,
and the sight who misjudge our sinful
yet simple life after a day’s hard labor:
We see the strings.
They aren’t chains,
as many thought they were.
They are brittle, fragile,
so much so
they are easy to break.
Please—do not help us
help you take them
off your silly thin necks.
The spirits are with us.
They are within us,
in our liver
and in our bloodstream.
We do not drown in it;
the world drowns from us,
if so we wish.
So please,
please!
Do not be tempting,
as much so
as the fruit of sin—
misplaced in the garden of Eden.
You do not know:
we are the ones awake,
and you are the dreamers.
And the dreams are here,
inside the bottle of spirits
we so easily behold.
We aren’t drunk.
We are lucid.
More awake,
and more aware.
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