Dissonance

Throw me a rope
Dissonance is drowning me
End of term malaise
I could use a cigarette
And a quart of something
That burns brighter
Than old grudges
Take me out to rattle
These bones and be sure
To tear my stockings
Toast to those who
Came before us
Visit their empty chairs
Commune with the ghosts
Of larrikins passed
And present arms
To the scented dawn
Walk me home
Kiss me at the gate
Miss me when I'm gone
And resolve
This imperfect cadence