Sometimes when the shadow falls
and everyone else’s on their beds I turn
to look at this beer of bottle staring at me
And I say, **** it! When will you speak?
So then we’d stare at each other
and I’d swear still it wouldn’t speak
By the time the silence grew and
I couldn’t take it any longer
my temper takes on me
the beer starts to scare
So I grabbed and lift it
and poured it empty
on my throat. Might as well drink it
if it wouldn’t speak.
I start to laugh because it’s funny
when you think you’re alone. Then
I take another beer and put in the
table and I speak to it again.
Chug. The lights are on and dimmed.
I do the same rituals and after some time
You wouldn’t believe it, the beer speaks
loudly in my chest. It stirs and revolts
in my mouth. I knew it was pretending.
I knew it could speak.
Now it’s begging to be released.
The beast inside is finally pleased.
It’s funny
It’s funny how other people didn’t know.
Now all that couldn’t be spoken
Can now be said
**** it could speak through the air.
So now you know how to speak to the beer
You **** it. You grab it in the neck. Make a pet out of it
and let it give you the entertainment
Otherwise, you’ll do it wrong.