**** blood is alcoholic,
The buzz drips all the way to your toes,
That hole in your stomach is filled
But still light,
Light enough you could drink your fill,
Even if it burns and bites.

Red whiskey,
Hiding in the cracked corners of your lips,
Lingering
just to remind you that later you’ll want to pour another glass.

And you have to take pride, have to laugh, to go with the flow of the buzz,
Because otherwise you’ll accept it’s an addiction,
And the burning liquid will turn cold,
And tasteless.