Now Tears

Theres half a bottle of port on his breath.
Under his nose and beside his death.
Bed, so neatly dressed, picture perfect placement
of compressed sheets wrapped in baselesss beings,
Half human and clipped at the top, like a cigar,
about to ignite the tapestry of neat embroidery,
seen from a far.

DO NOT, I repeat, do not venture into the jungle,
of incredulous wilderness this half being encroaches.
It ends in tears, for all involved, especially it.
Tried and tested, all will attest.
To this beings blind resolve to complex issues,
No matter how silly,
nor inferior.
No matter how destructive,
or mindblowing.
To be blind is to solve the worlds problems minus fears.
Blind drunk.
Now tears.