Promethean
Moirai smiled:
Implacable
Nerveless,
Numb.
Just like Antoinette
Once decreed:
"Qu'ils mangent de la brioche".
Before the famished
Crowds.
The raven
Impetuously gravitating
Around my scalp.
- Alcohol,
Like promethean eagles
Eating out
My liver.
Suicide is not
Of the flesh
But...
It cuts both ways.