I winced as the old fashioned
fell from the glass to my throat.

A river of drink carving its way though my
teeth, unfolding its sails on its boat.

The hatred of the taste overridden
by the aching need to cope.

The elixir produces a heat inside
creating a haze inside my mind.

I have slowly begun to crave this escape
waiting till I hold that precious potion in my grasp.

Please whiskey and rye bring me happiness,
for I cannot take much more sadness.

This drink brought me comfort I have only felt
within my mothers arms.

I grow and evolve in this bar, warm and humid
like the womb I had escaped oh so many years ago.

But as I evolve so does my dependence on this drink
crafted with care, poured so slow.

I watched in my drunken haze as my bartender becomes
my personal warden.

I am serving time within the walls of this bar.
A means for escape has evolved into imprisonment.

I would have never guessed that this drink
would take control of me.

[DK]

Gin and tonic please
Gin and tonic please
I just want to bathe in it

She gets hypnotic

At the bar


Away from the
Bar

Actually,
IN the bar,

Just mindlessly staring at
The shapes of a woman sitting on the wood

En

Stool



I can feel it now
like a ****** toons character,  getting hit really hard
The little stars circulating my head...
There’s stars in my eyes, a glow of the iris and a pupil that looks like a freshly polished shoe
I know how I look when I’m drunk okay?

Do you?

I know how I look when I’m drunk, okay?
Do you?

Do you ever look in the mirror?

Do you see your subconscious suddenly rise out of you?

Like a magic trick
Like a witch being summoned,
Accidentally
Because a naive ****** lit
The wrong candle

Sorry I’m off topic now, I can barely focus
But I love hocus pocus
The idea of three sisters being reunited
In the midst of a beautiful ,crisp, purple, nocturnal place
On Halloween....



Do you see your conscious slipping deeper into you though?
Do you?
So now your subconscious is your conscious
The thoughts we could control end up tying us up
Wrapping our mind around everything
A little too tight
Don’t you think?

And sometimes when your conscious is sleeping....
It’s the best feeling, yet at the same time so unnerving, just the worst.

Your sloppy, standing on a slippery *****
Sloppy *****
Lost in sudden, intoxicated hope
But your cheeks are burning
And your hearts on fire
Yearning
You have a sense of clarity
And freedom,
You think you do, at least.


Now I lose control, I knock over a shot glass
And it splashes on her lap
She licks her lips

I don’t like girls.


I start crying because I think of people and diseases.

I don’t like girls.

My eyes well up with tears and she says you look like a ******* baby.
You’re sad and your beautiful.
And your cheeks, so soft and full.

I don’t like girls.

Her lips lock mine
So lightly like a piece of pollen falling in your hair
I could barely feel it
Yet my body responded so swiftly

Gin and tonic
Gin and tonic
As she pours hypnotic

I don’t like girls

But what’s anyone going to do
Without the soft cradling touch of a lady
Who can hold you to her *****
Keep you close like Allie and Noah in the canoe
Let you rest like a cat cradled up unto a crescent moon

And give you the comfort and the freedom to feel peace
Like
A gin and tonic
Gin and tonic

Beautiful, strong women
So hypnotic.

Sindi Kafazi

To get lost on a shelf.
A journey, couch potato tourist,
Book upon book, fantastical and fact
An expergefactor for the literary senses.

A sofa that swallows you whole
with an old fashioned friend,
stirring bourbon thoughts and
swirling orange twists

A wall of books,
novels and tomes.
Hemingway nestled next to Palahniuk.
Generational angst and
Alphabetical Chaos!

I wouldn’t call it seedy
It’s not dingy, after all
Dark though, and loud
Almost always filled with a crowd
(Especially during happy hours)

The lights are low
(the prices too)
One plus one equals four
And soon, the time passes like
Clouds outside a window

The TV glows
With cricket or football
(But who’s really watching,
right?)
The soft conversations together
Make a loud hum
Of laughter and memories
And beer burps and orders
And call for bills and-
Maybe one more pitcher?

Four hours later,
Everything is closed
The mall is silent
As a graveyard
And we sway through it
Af if floating on air
Skipping stairs
And small talk

Looking back,
I don’t say goodbye
I know we’ll be back
Next week
Amongst its postered-up walls
And high ceiling,
Talking over its loud music
Comfortable,
Happy,
(And drunk).