I drink 

And become 

   The apple of my eye 

But cored 

   With cheese 

 And a nice red wine

    The knife too sharp 

To pierce God's heart

   It slides and finds no purchase

I sigh again

 On the marble steps of the Vatican stairs

  Dressed in Ralph Lauren

 My watch is priceless

    A handcuff to my soul

      Dithering in the wake of Gloom

   The fog upon the moor

   "The Hulks"

 Boy bring me victuals 

And a file 

   On the morrow 

And tell no one 

Or the lad will find you

   Now GO!

Hah!