Epitaph

Shall I lip tilt of this engraved black chalice?

As said of the sad to Sip of this sup.

Cheer not for my Alexander nor Alice.

Interlocking fingers are revolting the tables cup.

Slosh and dribble to thirst does pander.

Parched chords of disharmony court lubricant.

Inspirit in haste and aftertaste incur.

To many path flow variance sourced of ill decant.

Such yawning eyes for avidity.

As such the bone shroud now aches in morning light.

Such fawning lies pour rapidly.

As such the stone cloud now takes in mourning plight.

-M

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