Look at her.
Drinking all day going out all night, no real friends, just people going out and drinkink the same poisoning drinks.
She tells everybody she is fine, she is working all days and she is doing all the exams.
She is lying to her self.
Her pay goes direct to her mounth and to her liver.
Look at her she “works” at the daddy’s agency doing nothing for all the time, heating the dark leathered chair of the office.
She has no womenly curves she has yet that teeny look.
She eats nothing but she drinks. Yeah she drink a lot like if it was
possible that drinking can substain you.
Look at them, not saying anything to her not helping her, never, even
now.
Her mother and her dad are nothing they don’t do nothing.
How it can be?
She is the daddy’s girl drinking with the dad, who always pays for everything

Fire in my throat
Enough has led to sinking, unable to float
Or a misunderstood man tying one last rope.
But not today.
Today we celebrate
And disregard emotions that frustrate
Blow off actions that help to compensate.
In order to arise
With no ideas in our mind
Of what happened, last night.

she's not here
she went away
she'll be back soon
i hope
i pray

i think
i knowbutdontknow
****
that hurts to think
it doesn't hurt to drink
so i'll just drink that thought away

This muggy, sultry sun is no fun:
Longest sustained heatwave for over forty years.
Suffocating Sahara with Death Valley cracks
In the dry arid soil.

My electric fan shattered with a power surge
Into fragmented plastic shards.
I so miss it now.
It’s oppressively tropical,
With volcanic heat
And Pressure bearing down on us.
The clammy mugginess of a sauna.
Not the clean dry air you find abroad,
Yet still that remorseless torrid scorching,
Roasting and toasting.
Just too much.

Hot air clothed in humid moisture,
Stuffy and sweaty,
Steaming to a haze
And later
Thunder storms.

I long for a cool brew
To freeze my throat
And quench my raging thirst:
Ice cool, ice cool, ice cool.
I’m sure not talking
Of tea.

Paul Butters

© PB 6\8\2018.

i wake to
the rhythm of the birds.
its a day ill live
and forget.
it starts with
grey rain but i have
nothing to do
other than drink
with friends
so what does it matter.

i do not walk alone.
i am not drunk
i can still see the work.
there is real forgetting
going on, and i am sleeping
there. i have made
my peace with battles.
just let me drink
with friends.

i end in bed,
shaking to old wounds.
a creature from the
water, i cant swim
so i cant be hurt. it saves
lives and i need saving.
only a match that
perfect could end
so poorly.

To be poured like a drink.
The bubbles fizz.
Gathered around, enriched in desire.
To quench the pursuit of pleasure.
Snapping the top proceeding to pour.
Cold to taste.
This was the comfort I felt surrounded
in her arms.
A glass seen half full continuing to pour.
Filling the space around.
Drowning just beneath the rim of glass.
An extension of myself caught in great advantage.
The settlement before the first sip.
Compensating the thrill of being swallowed whole.
In terms of affection.
It was a hug I'd never forget.
A thought that leads into physical manifestation.
The bliss of the moment,
The moment her lips pop at the taste.
Bubbles fizz crackling in the midst of excitement.
Tickling her nose.
The memory of how things were.
Drunk until nothing is left
The reality of how things really are