**** it,
take another shot of whiskey,
with me.
Stumble to the liquor cabinet,
and let,
me stare down the barrel
of a loaded bottle
of Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7,
a fluid bullet pulling
teeth to the tip of the tongue.
**** it,
get close and smell my perfume —
soon we'll dance.
Stand in my room,
soon we'll lay down.
**** it, you're good.
Better with a bottle.
High praise for Jack Daniel's,
because when you drink
you think you like me —
like an occupation.
Jan 5, 2012
Jan 5, 2012 at 7:57 PM UTC
**** it,
take another shot of whiskey,
with me.
Stumble to the liquor cabinet,
and let,
me stare down the barrel
of a loaded bottle
of Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7,
a fluid bullet pulling
teeth to the tip of the tongue.
**** it,
get close and smell my perfume —
soon we'll dance.
Stand in my room,
soon we'll lay down.
**** it, you're good.
Better with a bottle.
High praise for Jack Daniel's,
because when you drink
you think you like me —
like an occupation.