That grain
That grit
The stain
Looks like ****
That was a life waiting on love

That thought I think
Whenever I pour, pull, splash
A drink is mine and its perverse
And small sometimes it builds
Mostly though it falls
Because I'd rather be drunk than creative

A glance in a moment
A chance in a flash
Never realised because it takes to long
To be open and accepting
what is honesty but faith
Scary to admit your
Secrets
Desires
Are to weird to be voiced
Sometimes its easier to let go
**** in your mouth
Choking on the juices as they flow
Going along with procreation
To terrified to turn off the pleasure

Ill measure out another shot pour it out
And take the bottle
Easier, less stress of trying to know if I want more
I'll just take it

Perhaps there'll be another to  take its place.... soon.