My breath smells like ol' Jim Beam,
blinds can't block hot sun streams,
early evening, my head still pounds,
a nauseous sailor on sold ground.

Last night the neon moon still burned,
she danced around, for her I yearn,
mescal and whiskey and tequila too,
but she isnt mine, she belongs to you.

Bartender pour and then again,
I step outside for the cooling wind,
inside it's hot, she burns me up,
can't douse the flames so I fill my cup.

The music's rhythm does so tease,
she comes near, I beg her please,
grins from ear to ear in sheer delight,
but she won't give into my plight.

I give her pleasure with my pain,
my eyes run tears, like pouring rain,
we do this every single night,
she's in control, she won the fight

Pink shirt, pink *******,
she's cleaning the shower,
hair up in a sloppy ponytail,
I  could watch hour on hour.

Looks as good now, as she did in school,
glances at me, through the mirror,
disappears behind foam, as she wipes it down,
but my love for her, couldn't be clearer.

Books are scattered about on the floor,
Frank Herbert's Dune, and some Louis L'amour,
I'm not feeling quick, in fact quite dead,
tequila ache pounds my head.

Came in last night just scattered my clothes,
doors not locked, hell it's not even closed,
weather outside feels cool and clean,
way after noon its five fifteen.

Slept all day but I dreamt of her,
my mouth is dry, tongue covered in fur,
stumble to my feet, no I won't get far,
couple of steps, liquor on my bar.

Guess I'll get up, do it all again,
maybe tonight with Bombay gin,
a little cranberry, sweet and ****,
but it won't be enough to heal my heart.