The form is a Stave, but it’s partially broken: sue me for the syllable count but at least I followed the line count, repetition and rhyme scheme

Surely there is no tomorrow
not through the eyes of Edgar Poe
nor through my own, but given up
I’ve drunken from a poison cup,
night’s excursions have turned hollow–
Surely there is no tomorrow

Surely there is no tomorrow
overcome, partly in to sorrow.
I’ll never hold what I once held
my future drowned, page inked in black.
I’ve thrown my last hopes down my throat–
Surely there is no tomorrow.

Surely there is no tomorrow
caught beneath choice-fate’s undertow.
I toast to loss, fermented fears,
the taste burning, liquor singed tears.
Think of me today good fellow–
surely there is no tomorrow.