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Francie Lynch Sep 2019
Its commensal, at best,
This house fly of a guest;
Who frequents your home,
Alits on a chair,
Rubbing its hands together.
It shows no regrets,
Feeding, slurping and buzzing,
With a self-made bequest.
I can tolerate a bar fly;
A barn fly, a sty fly;
But,
I've the bottle fly,
That plunders my fridge,
Swarms over my beer
Like a blood-thirsty midge.
He's a house fly,
And ignorant,
So fly paper won't do.
I need a SWAT team to shoo
This house fly adieu.
Do you have a house fly?
Timur Shamatov Sep 2018
All I wanted was a drink
Caught in circumstances of today
Trying to drink away tomorrow
Yet, still living in yesterday

Never saw you come
Barely heard you speak
Your lips and eyes
So red - so blue

Three shots deep and
Now we’re reminiscing over
Things we’ve long forgot
Drawing closer through the thoughts of lust

In the ocean of your blue eyes
I see us swimming through the night
Burning at the thoughts of
Your red lips, kiss and press to mine....
We all had those late bar nights that lead into.... something we can write about.
Brent Feb 2018
Overall
The night is good
Promising spirits, laughs, and song
The bar is full
Friends chat and share the night
I sit alone trying not to look pathetic
My only friend the beer and whiskey
Fooled by the idea
That this will offer those promises
Offer fullfillment
A routine that never pays out
Dakota J Dawson Jan 2018
The beast mortified inside
Breast aflame about to burn
Inside he dies

Where the black flower
Blooms into anew
He will seek respite

For past sins
Old grievances
Poured into a summer blue

His *** meaningless
Spite cracks the whip
Plurality the dinner knife

Sanitation foresaw
Without the forceps
Boarding on a foregone conclusion

The spring mattress
Made broken
No time for resale

His' cage, not a solitude
Words obtuse and unabused
Love is his knight

Shining and gleaming
Scornful without hate
Shameful but sane

His burden
The heart
Colliding with the bar
Robert J Howard Feb 2017
What a tough day
Hoping tomorrow will be better
Squeeze the pillow tight
Try and forget your night.

You stopped washing your jeans
Read about it in a magazine
Adds character apparently
Creases, dirt and gallantry.

Always short of money
Bills never stop a coming
Try and turn a blind eye
But the end is nigh.

Monday to Friday passes
Taste of stale bourbon fades
Appetite starts to grow
Time to do it all again in woe.
Gadus Jul 2014
Porcelain teeth flashing with that unnatural hue.
Pandering your **** in an alleyway
for two squatters and a proper *** to see.
Knees bent,
hips gyrate.
Throwing **** like caution to the wind.

Moldy pull-tabs torn limb by limb.
Manual fixation (or so I've been told).
Peel a label.
Phone a friend.
Flip the switch on this ******* shitshow.

Ripe with intentions spilling on the carpet.
Red like the drink,
the drink that got me here.
Slow ascension followed by the free fall ...
as is life.

Appreciate the absurdity
of a swan dive
straight into the asphalt.

— The End —