Cirrhosis Writhes and Moves On

Sir Rosis rose and razed his host
who resignedly retried
to raise a glass as in times past.
The glass broke and he sighed.
‘Do you recall?’ Sir Rosis asked,
‘the hogsheads and the casks
you lavished on your liver giving
it a keg of tasks?’
His host’s mind had been binged so much
that its memories were mired
in alcohol. The host drew a blank
and looked puzzled when it fired.
‘Your brain is mixing metaphors!’
Sir Rosis said and fled
to seek out other likely lads
with livers less stone dead.

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