It's Still Life

He Dreams of Gin

When he dreams of gin,
he takes this, not
that road. This fork,
not that one. Claims
that despair’s his wisdom —
he’s no damned fool.
Blasphemy is vanity’s prayer,
he says. This man fears
his dying sounds.
He sleeps with rats.
He dreams of gin.

dVerse’s Quadrille #37: 44 words (excluding the title)