With Only Thoughts

I swirl glass,
hydrating myself
with 7 bucks of scotch.
He was only 34 years old,
a kid
too close to my age.
Strangled,
stabbed,
repeatedly.
Who Killed Theodore Rapture?
I ask myself
out loud,
knowing the answer
is already known,
just not to me.

I'll have to question,
gather information
through the lips
of liars.
Alibis
will be sewn together
with silver tongues:
Foxes
stealing chickens,
hiding
from the farmer.
I'll reap,
what others
forgot to plant.
But first,
I swirl glass.
I live for this
7 buck scotch.

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