(A poem dedicated to Nicholas I. who was pronounced dead at the Borche Vodka and Tears
in Melbourne, Australia)

A loss of faith
A loss of love
'Tis the story of a man charged
with vodka tears dripping down his cheek.
Once a force of good, of glee
Now a force of detest, of hatred.
'Tis folly.
'Tis life
With the vodka tears that flow through all of us.
Pain.
Pleasure.
It becomes the same
nothing can stay
and everything must change.
A pain so deep it won't wash out.
A pleasure so perverse it won't fade.
Be it a loss of faith?
Be it a loss of love?
Nay, it be a loss of self
Becoming something one is not
to drip the vodka tears everyone cries.
To become one of the walking dead.
A dead man walking.
'Tis all I'll ever be,
Thus I drown myself in these vodka tears,
like so many before me.