I spill beer on myself unashamed,
I like for liquid to run from my mouth,
like a lord drinking wine from a horn.

Summer nights soon,
where things dry quickly,
and I'll taste things in my throat
and smell them on my pants
for nights to come.
Inhale.
Exhale.

Living for the nights where shuddering ceases,
and one can throw a rock from a rock
in the warm moonlight.