I never cared much for
politics or
       the jam between my toes
       but I guess it keeps me
company
       when winter loves
December and
       my feet sweat pushpins
       I’ll sometimes catch
snowflakes on
       my tongue but who really cares
       I’ve always suffered from
seasonal depression
       but I think it’s just an
excuse
       to tell people I hate them
or to count
       fingernail clippings in the sink
       Maybe I have a snow globe
for a skull
       thawed out and marinating
in a pool of
       whiskey hung over
       a bucket to conjure
Flies
       or was it Spiders harvesting
my insides
       I pray they lay eggs in my
lungs
       so when I speak, someone will listen
       Spiders to keep me company at night
when the lights turn off
       to eat the toe jam I’ve collected in
mason jars
       but the sound of a match striking
always scares them off
       so I light a cigarette to
summon my Demons
       Because maybe they will be my friends
       But I plan on dying alone
with my whiskey and Flies.

Drunk,

With logical operators out of sync
He marches

Temptation fixed in his mouth
Pockets erupting fear
And misinterpreted erections

His mother sits in the corner of his eye
As another shot of Jamison enters his body
She’s worried about his faith in God
While he just wants to **** something tonight

“He’s a teenager.” Daddy says

But Daddy smokes a lot of ***
And his boy has sin in his heart

Spin, Daddy, Spin
You’re head is on backwards now
Gaze placed on another dime bag

Now your son is in the bathroom
With a girl pinned against the door
He's sliding his hand up her skirt
As tears trickled down her porcelain skin

She was 16 and a ******

As he pulls his pants on, he smirks and says to her
“You lost your sheen pretty lady.”

I love to get drunk.
I love to get wasted, hammered,
plastered, intoxicated,
white girl, ****-faced drunk.

I have many stories about getting drunk,
from racing up the street and back naked because I lost another bet
being stripped down and thrown into a
shower after vomiting on myself,
or having *** with a ******* my friend’s couch
(I call it my *** couch now).

Okay so most of them I end up naked
But that’s the glory of ***** my friends!
Enough can make you feel like you have clothes on
when in fact you clearly do not have clothes on,
(We know, it’s cold, no one is looking at you’re **** anyways),
It can make you think you’re dance moves are on point,
Give you strength to punch a dent in a fridge because you thought someone was talking **** about you’re friend when really they were just talking about skateboarding,
It can even give you the courage to walk over to that really really
cute girl and tell her how much you want to put it in her ****.

The point of me telling you all of this is that some people have given alcohol a bad rep.
Obviously all the people who drunk drive and get into accidents.
But no, I’m talking about people like… the douchy frat boy who gets obnoxiously drunk, calls everyone a *** even though he’s probably a closet homosexual, who borderline tries to **** girls with his big muscles and amazing ability to care so much about football. By the way, I’m not you’re ******* bro.

Or the dumb girl who thinks she can drink a million shots and be okay, the one girl that pop punk bands always sing about, who end up puking everywhere, or sleeping with the douchy frat boys while all their friends call her a ****, and then she’ll make a post on facebook about how all guys are douchbags, among the other dumb **** she posts on facebook like stupid life quotes such as #YOLO

Or even the hipster who has ruined drinking PBR in public forever.
(No, I’m not a hipster, I just go to art school and PBR is cheap, you *******.)

And to those stuck up individuals who tell me that drinking is bad and I should feel bad: ******* and the high horse you rode in on. Saying I’m an alcoholic is saying that I have more fun then you. I have never met an interesting person who doesn’t drink. If you don’t drink, you’re a boring **** and all you’re stories ****. They all end with, “And then I got home.”

Alcohol was God’s way of telling us the world’s a ****** place, so he took a little bit of heaven and bottled it up for us, and if you believe any of this you’re probably drunk; Not the part about bottling up heaven, the part about God existing. But if I was you’re god, I would sprinkle wine out into the night so when you looked up at it to wither time away with questions to me you’d be so drunk with the moment and forget about being saved. Because life isn’t about heaven and hell, it’s about living and being alive and being drunk with the people you love.

(WE ARE!)

The space pioneers, planetary colliders seizing the heavens and placing them on earth, pop pop big bang brain busters that spin galaxies into milky ways and planets into candybars, the alien humanoid reflectors reflecting the sun back into Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

(WE ARE!)

The fire-starters, self-combustion, canvas arsonists. IGNITE! Light the streets on fire with your blood. Explode, implode, and explode again. Pilot to bombardier, we’re dropping bombs like Guernica.

(WE ARE!)

Wild creatures born out of black magic, black mamba, bear your ******* fangs! Be a predator! Find you’re prey, rip it’s ******* guts out, and paint something with them. Then scream, scream so loud that Munch himself would tell you to turn it down a notch.

(WE ARE!)

The creators, the ground shakers, the earth quakers, inventing ideas, gushing thought, and gushing blood because remember, you are alive! Alive with creativity, passion, and energy to create, because we are artists.

I
I hit my
I hit my head again and I
and I can’t get up
I can’t get up off the floor
off the floor that creaks and
that creaks and is cold
cold and I don’t
and I don’t remember my name
I don’t remember my name or yours.
and you were
and you were important to me
to me you were important
I think
I think but I hit my head
hit my head and I’m bleeding
I’m bleeding from my ears
bleeding from my ears because you
you lied to me
I think
I remember
you lied to me
lied to me
and I remember your name
your name is God

6% alcohol content
In the bathroom binge drinking
Again Beer,
Cigarettes have always been a vice and
Bourbon Blitzkrieg!
My friend once ****** on a statue
of The ****** Mary but
Blood is not suitable for children cause
Macaulay Culkin scares the living ****
outta me and I
Desperately want another kiss
from that baphomet I met in Brooklyn
SHADABOOM!
“English *******, do you speak it?!”
Marsellus’s soul was in that briefcase but
He don’t look like a ***** praying to
birthday cake, Praise the Lard!
Whiskey tastes sweeter with honey and
another night down, another **** in my mouth
In case of flame(er), beat him.
Off with the good book because
GodisdeadandsoamI