TEQUILA
1st shot. 2nd shot. 3rd shot. 4th shot ....
At 7th, the sky became a man in black
Hope he's not coming to my funeral
Cos I planned to reach heaven at 33rd.
Sip after sip, I lost the count of my days:
To the clinks of glass cup kissing the table
To the molten sap roaring down my throat
To the lulling arms of heaven waving at me.
Life's a gramophone, it keeps playing my dirge
I will pretend not to hear the music on repeat
Oh! Is that not Masterkraft on the live beat?
OK, let me dance to this throttling rhythm
With
my
arms
f — l — a — i — l — i — n — g
Wait, before this dead beat finally silence me
Hello Tagbo! Tagbo! Can you hear me? It's me your brother at the end, wait for me, I'm coming.
©® Jamiu Ahmed
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