Go to bed Adelle
It's 20 to 4, in the morning Adelle
Smoke this cigarette, Adelle
You're drunk, Adelle
Sipping red wine, Adelle
What are you doing, Adelle?

Hiding with bottles, Adelle
Smoking bongs, Adelle
Playing denial, like a game, Adelle

It's only you, Adelle
Trust and all that ****, you, Adelle
Be you, Adelle

Smoke that smoke, Adelle
Drink that glass of wine, Adelle

Just don't go crazy, Adelle

Be yourself, Adelle

Learn your limits, and stay with in it, Adelle

You should probably sleep, Adelle

Watch jersey shore, and pass out,  Adelle

Here they come
rolling and warm,
fresh from a spring of pain
welling up
without warning, without guise
along the banks of tired eyes
waiting and wailing,
drinking in its course
of the inevitable
before the wild fall rushes in,
then impatient and carefree
like a rivulet it runs
along the parched contours
of a lifeless expanse
mating with the lips
burning with desire and laden with salt
to pry open the wound
that woke up a bleeding cry
trapped inside a scarred soul
waiting for redemption

i am allergic to washing up liquid
and lovers who taste of day old liquor
unfortunately
neither have a warning
‘may cause irritation’
weary desperation
to scrub clean
every thought of us remaining

my hands are sore from rubbing
my eyes are bloodshot too
crying
sharp hot tears of
glistening glass, cutting at my cheek

every shattered word you said
a piercing pool of lies
next time
will be different
raised voices as high as the expectations

sober me from you
i’ll go cold ’til i no longer feel you rushing my system
addictive coffee skinned boy
drunk on the idea of forgetting you
maybe this relationship be a blur like the night before
that's how I would liken it
maybe we'd be happier surviving on the memories alone
drink me down
throw away the bottle

i can only imagine how your head feels from the hangover
well that's how my heart feels
over

"Cheers!" and we drink to
this totalitarian,
patriarchal ****.

Four bottles litter the floor
but life I do adore
people drink and see
the present is all that be

Being underage is like living in the prohibition era
There's always a party going on somewhere
Golden girls with bobbed hair and flowing clothing
Bad boys over-age importing alcohol in.

The roaring under-20s
The tales of the Jazz age
There's always a dance to have
A friend to stick with
A boy to catch your eye.

I never got invited to parties
That is, until I reached the roaring heights
Of high society
When for one night I was the focus of your attention
No other girl danced as much with you.

People were taking drags on long cigarettes
Noise everywhere, wild young hearts aflame
You caught my eye once more
And you looked at me the way all girls want to be looked at.

Our courage bubbled over, I gave you a kiss on the cheek
A Parisian end to the night
And I let you go off
Into the misty green light.

a songbird sipping
from a newly formed puddle
ripples travel on