What does it matter that I’m on my phone, when everyone else is on their phone too. And what does it matter that I’m drunk in the afternoon, when everyone else is drunk too. Ok, well maybe not everyone. But I’m already drunk, so it’s too late to change that. Don’t judge me. Fuck off.
Thirteen drinks later and suddenly it’s Saturday. It was Friday the last time I checked. But now its Saturday. That’s ok. At least I have some idea of what’s going on. But this hangover keeps kicking me in the skull. Like a boot against a door. Fuck. I need to get to the liquor storeContinue reading “Drunk Blur”
I write the words, but then you have to read them in your head, so it’s almost like this poem is as much yours as it is mine. And I think you can take it from here. I’m gonna go have a drink.
I like my seat next to the tap, tap, tap… the faucet is dripping. Fuck. “Just gimme a beer,” I say to Phil, the bartender, and he gives me one on draft. Then another. Mix in a shot. Another beer. My gut is hot first, then my throat right before I vomit. Phil cleans itContinue reading “Tap”
I’m fucking tired of your love stories. And I’m tired of my love stories too. And I just want to move to California and wash all of these words off of me in the ocean. I think that would make me feel better. Refreshed. It might help me sober up, too, because I’m high rightContinue reading “Love Story”
I have a backpack full of weed, and a case almost full of beer, and I’m trying to make it seem like I’m not getting fucked up to suppress my fears. But I am.
Picture this: a picture of me, picturing myself as a flying monkey, or a dancing nancy, or something else imaginary like that. Picture a picture of a happy me – a drunk me – from some time a couple of years ago. Or better yet, see it for yourself, because even a poet knows thatContinue reading “Picture”
I feel antsy. No. I feel ants under my skin. They come out when I’m sober, and they run over my arms where the veins should be, burying themselves inside of me. I can’t sit still, knowing that they’re in there, turning me into a human ant hill. I need to move. No. I needContinue reading “Antsy”
Neon signs light up like they do in my dreams. People fight at the bar like animals proving their dominance. She’s there, dancing and laughing and making it worth it to be awake and not watching Animal Planet. I kind of like this bar.
I’m looking in the mirror but I can’t see straight. My teeth are stained red from all the wine that I’ve been drinking, and there’s a vein protruding from my forehead, splitting my face in half. Veins everywhere, really. I’m so dehydrated. So fucked up. So both. Ha.