My heart has always been skeptical,
and sometimes I think that it's waiting.
waiting to go back to being hollow,
like that old church in Vienna,
after mass on a rainy day in October.
I stood outside in the garden:
extracted my rib,
ground it down on that stone,
shaping it into a knife
so that I could dig a small hole
to bury my treasonous heart.
You emerged into that dark wood,
and we found a path together
through moonlit streets and storms
until we came upon a tavern-
your laughter sloshing like
warm bourbon falling into a glass.
I'd watch you when you lost your self,
and I could see the fire burning in you
warming me, and in those lost moments
I didn't care at all that I might get burnt.
The taste of your bourbon sweet lips
in the backseat of my car
on a gravel road
that I haven't visited since high school...
If only we were driving a '91 Civic,
I would swear that I was 17 again.
That bartender poured my bourbon
and took an interest in my life.
'What's wrong, pal?
You can tell me.
I have all the answers.'
'Great,' I said. 'I don't know
any of the questions.'
For the rest of the night,
he left me with my typer
and silently refilled
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At this sushi joint,
she searched for the words
to describe her dinner.
‘It's heaven,’ she said, ‘Yes, heaven.’
Call me a simpleton, but divinity
on Earth is the sweet tinge of bourbon,
the smoke of an acid 60 gauge
that rolls over the tongue,
and the music of Pink Floyd
with the lights off.
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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
I just had a shot
Of Pappy Van Winkle neat
Smooth with a good burn
I can't believe it
Five seconds I was sober
Due to Evan
Lying to my face
Preaching happy thoughts
Corrupting fables and dreams
Bourbon is fine
Confusion without show
Conclusion too far away
Drifting in a sea
That I can't reach
He sheds his serpent skin
Only to regenerate a thicker version
Of emotionally unavailable armor,
While drinking his bourbon.
The warmth fills you up
The burn scrapes your throat
You’d like to hiccough
And your brain is afloat
The Bourbon is hot
The ice is not
The ****** is sweet
But my heart prefers it neat.
I’m drunk. Leave me alone
Morning mood was bleak
Spiced with some Jazz, a poached egg and Appreciation.
Noon was carnival!
BBQ on the dock sprinkled with tropical house and a heavy dose of ***.
Night was narcissism
Sinful Bourbon and banana desserts, cigarettes aplenty, blue lights and bad habits
Day 6 was a good day.