"The Wine of the Wounded" (working title, poem incomplete)

Folder: 
Incomplete

Drinking the warm wine of old wounds relived

Transgression's past returning in cycle

And, drunk on my apathy,

I trudge across the sands

Without feeling in my feet

Drunk enough to forget

Wine can't quench a crying tongue

Calling for water in the desert

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Another poem found in an old notebook I hadn't looked at in a long time. It was intended as a possible addition to the poem "I Wept in the Desert," but did not seem to fit in with the rest. I don't know what I'll do with it but I'd like to do something with it at some point.

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