Blotto boy

the prompt was ‘Drunken Scalawag’

He stumbles through midnight mist,

bottle clasped in weathered fist,

boots torn, shirt askew,

a scalawag with nothing to lose.

Eyes aglow like stars gone mad,

laughs at dreams he never had,

sings a song, sharp and sweet,

the rhythm of his happy feet.

Tavern calls, streets spin,

wagers life with every grin.

A rogue, a knave with wine-stained breath,

dances boldly close to death.

When the moon begins to fade,

night withdraws its inky shade,

he falls beneath the morning sky,

broken man with no reply.

In his heart, chaos dwells,

cell door clangs and foretells

freedom is a fleeting dream

pissed away in urine stream.

Raise your glass, do not begrudge

the life he lives without a judge.

A blotto boy forever must roam

and sometimes, madness leads him home.

9-17-2024