I got drunk with your ghost last night.
Our demons were in attendance,
and we played stupid games
like Edward 40-hands
and cheers to the governor.
We stuffed our faces
with your namesake and
I tripped over your shoes
and fell face-first into the concrete
that lines the bottom of your garage.
I put a nice ****
in my right knee,
just like our college days.
I watched the blood poor out
as they all laughed
at my clumsy tendencies.

But you cleaned me up
that oozing cut,
and you told me everyone around you
was a sham
and wouldn't care if you drove
yourself off the road
but what you didn't know
was that when I woke up
and you weren't there
I was screaming out
that I could have
done something.