hard liquor makes my stomach turn.

opening a bottle of ***** is like taking the lid off of a tupperware container full of liquid charcoal.
I swear it looked like something delicious,
but the way it folds in my stomach,
not at all like how my mother taught me to fold batter in a bowl,
tells me otherwise.

downing a shot in one go is challenging.
this cake ***** doesn’t taste at all like cake,
and fireball has a tendency to taste like actual fire,
and i’m still not sure if that’s actually intentional. maybe ironically.
but a dare’s a dare and spin the shot landed on me
i wasn’t playing, i was really just walking by
no really, someone else can have it, go ahead, spin it again
but the arrow is pointing right at me and now everyone is staring and well,
a dare’s a dare.
isn’t it?

a dare’s a dare until liquid charcoal isn’t all you’re spewing,
because word ***** and actual ***** kinda feel the same
at least after six shot of… well i’m not really sure.
that cute guy over there… no the other one. in the hat.
he gave it to me,
said it’ll loosen me up.
I suppose i believed him, half because i wasn’t really listening,
i was looking at his teeth
I wonder if he whitens them.
he must have had braces.

well anyway, i drank it and it kinda tasted like gasoline
but i bet i looked cool swigging from his two six.
probably only until the sixth chug, when the first one hit my eyes
and i couldn’t really see ****** expressions anymore
i guess that’s when i got brave

word ***** and actual ***** kinda feel the same,
especially when you’re not really sure which one is happening
oh, maybe both.
and now he’s holding my hair and i’m biting my tongue
but my stomach is heaving and he looks so good
he definitely had braces. no one is born with teeth that nice
i bet he doesn’t drink red wine
i bet he flosses twice a day.
i should brush my teeth
this doesn’t taste like cake at all.