Painted Champagne

         You fill your stomach with hoards of words
and never give me anything worth
         more than time to shower you in praise
with grape juice full of painted champagne.

My stomach is full of honey bees
         that buzz and buzz until I sleep
on the bed next to you
         pouring in my mouth your painted champagne.

         You stand and sit in your room all day
and paint and paint until the moonlight
         creeps into your magnum opus
then you come to me for the painted champagne.

It tastes all sour and feels rough in my throat
         but it makes me feel all nice and alone
like the world has gone to the grocery store
         to get themselves that painted champagne.