counting off fifths of bourbon,
each one i labeled as my last,
the rows of glass bottles, empty of amber
crowd my subconscious
and now, clinking from my passenger seat
at the bumps in the road
sings a tinkling melody of my defeat
i blame those nights,
[which are most nights]
that are drowned by a persistently resonating
lack of noises and voices
which urge me to stifle the drone with a triple shot on the rocks
hold.the.mixer.hold.the.water.&.no.last.call
so when i can manage to recall
how much lighter i am
on those rare mornings,
unburdened by the sloshing, sickened weight of the evening's burning fog,
a subsequent golden haze effectively numbs me
and the thrumming darkness fades into liquid amber
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
counting off fifths of bourbon,
each one i labeled as my last,
the rows of glass bottles, empty of amber
crowd my subconscious
and now, clinking from my passenger seat
at the bumps in the road
sings a tinkling melody of my defeat
i blame those nights,
[which are most nights]
that are drowned by a persistently resonating
lack of noises and voices
which urge me to stifle the drone with a triple shot on the rocks
hold.the.mixer.hold.the.water.&.no.last.call
so when i can manage to recall
how much lighter i am
on those rare mornings,
unburdened by the sloshing, sickened weight of the evening's burning fog,
a subsequent golden haze effectively numbs me
and the thrumming darkness fades into liquid amber
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