College dreamers,
trust fund seams broken down
like veins after repetitive prods.
Drinking days
are alliteration accented
because two
dollar drinks deserve denotation.

A hangover that brings
clarity is irony;
a sad realization made
after a night of excess.
A drop of vulnerability
and personal accountability
is desperation, and preference
at this point is permissible,
yet premature.

Face buried, between the sheets, wrapped in legs and lust,
books thrown against a wall.
Classes are dropped faster
than broken furniture
and one night stands.
And **** the taste.
We're all chasing that last sip
that brings a confidence
to think rhythmically.