Ironing the Irony

IRONING THE IRONY

I'm as out of luck as I am of it,
Sinking fast but I drink well.
My jeans match my mood,
Bone against flesh, ice against flow.
My hear beats like a cardiac muscle,
It's my tears that roll like a drum,
Fancy that, I often think,
But entry's rarely free,
In negotiation, is a sticky place
When you're doing fine,
Or danger when you're not.
Hearing the words you wonder,
Should I listen to the whisper?
Can you feel it?
I'm sorry, I'll move my hands.
Downing pints, lifts the sadness,
But not in, the modern way.
Truth to tell, is a liar.
Sit with me, I'll stand by you
Until I fall, which I will,
But that's my choice.