I want to drink
Because life hurts
Because all I feel is pain or numb
Because happiness escapes me
Because every smile is skin deep
Because my veins burn to be opened
Because I can’t laugh without feeling empty
Because maybe enough toxins in my blood
Can make me feel okay
Just for a little while...

Time has passed now,
I hope you are a part of the waves crashing down
At peace
Hope you are a butterfly flying around somewhere
Forever wandering
Hoping you are the color of deep red since you loved it so much
Filled with passion
I hope you can hear me
And i hope you have let go.
You deserve to be at peace.
Finally.
I hope you are drinking wine and eating tacos with Marilyn Monroe while dancing to your favorite songs
For eternity

I never realized how much you did for me, the little things.
Im a mess now.
I just wish i could talk to you
The only one who knew what to say
When all came crashing down

I miss arguing with you about little things
And laughing til we cant breathe
You seemed to be the only one who really knew me.
I would do anything to have you back, but i cant keep reflecting on the past.
I have to let go too, but i cant let go of you.
You were my life. All that i knew.
Gone far too soon.
God i wish i woulda knewn.
I would never turn down an outfit you picked out for me,
Just because i love you.
I would never turn down an opportunity to come see you,
Which i know i did towards the end.
Too involved in social dynamics and friends.

I regret it all momma.
What i would do, if i knew, that i would never see you again.
I would have never missed your birthday.

It cuts me to the core.

Just know, i love you so.
I hope you are singing a song.
With not a worry.

Dont stress about me,
Ill be okay, eventually.
I love you infinitely and appreciate all you do for me.

Still sending signs to me.
I love you so.
Like rose said to jack, ill never let go.

I cant wait for us to meet again.
You always called me your angel baby
But you are my angel now.
I can feel you watching over me. <3
I love you my butterfly.
~ To the ends of the universe, til’ the end of time.~

Youronlydaughter -- ~

A hint is given from golden ***
Of what you're destined to become
Failed dreams of youth laid before you bare
Reflecting now you do not care
Nectars grasp encases you
Enraptured in your thick cocoon
Clawed by music's residue
You gasp for golden ***

I have drank *****
Down to very last droplet
At bottles bottom

Small Tales
by Michael R. Burch

When Artur and Cai and Bedwyr
were but scrawny lads
they had many a ***** adventure
in the still glades
of Gwynedd.
When the sun beat down like an oven
upon the kiln-hot hills
and the scorched shores of Carmarthen,
they went searching
and found Manawydan, the son of Llyr.
They fought a day and a night
with Cath Pulag (or a screeching kitten),
rousted Pen Palach, then drank a beer
and told quite a talltale or two,
"till thems wasn’t so shore which’un’s tails wus true."

And these have been passed down to me, and to you.

According to legend, Arthur and Kay grew up together in Ector’s court, Kay being a few years older than Arthur. Borrowing from Mary Stewart, I am assuming that Bedwyr (later Anglicized to Bedivere) might have befriended Arthur at an early age. By some accounts, Bedwyr was the original Lancelot. In any case, imagine the adventures these young heroes might have pursued (or dreamed up, to excuse tardiness or “lost” homework assignments). Manawydan and Llyr were ancient Welsh gods. Cath Pulag was a monstrous, clawing cat. (“Sorry teach! My theme paper on Homer was torn up by a cat bigger than a dragon! And meaner, too!”) Pen Palach is more or less a mystery, or perhaps just another old drinking buddy with a few good beery-bleary tales of his own. This poem assumes that many of the more outlandish Arthurian legends began more or less as “small tales,” little white lies which simply got larger and larger with each retelling. It also assumes that most of these tales came about just as the lads reached that age when boys fancy themselves men, and spend much of their free time drinking and puking! Keywords/Tags: King Arthur, boy, boyhood, *****, drinking, beer, ale, tall tales, Wales

Millay Has Her Way with a Vassar Professor
by Michael R. Burch

After a night of hard drinking and spreading her legs,
Millay hits the dorm, where the Vassar don begs:
“Please act more chastely, more discretely, more seemly!”
(His name, let’s assume, was, er ... Percival Queemly.)

“Expel me! Expel me!”—She flashes her eyes.
“Oh! Please! No! I couldn’t! That wouldn’t be wise,
for a great banished Shelley would tarnish my name ...
Eek! My game will be lame if I can’t milque your fame!”

“Continue to live here—carouse as you please!”
the beleaguered don sighs as he sags to his knees.
Millay grinds her crotch half an inch from his nose:
“I can live in your hellhole, strange man, I suppose ...
but the price is your firstborn, whom I’ll sacrifice to Moloch.”
(Which explains what became of pale Percy’s son, Enoch.)

Originally published by Lucid Rhythms. This poem is based on an account of Edna St. Vincent Millay being confronted by a male Vassar authority about her rogue behavior. However, there is a some poetic license involved, for the sake of humor. It was actually Vassar President Henry Noble MacCracken who mentioned Shelley. Here is his account in a response to a question about Millay cutting classes: "She cut everything. I once called her in and told her, 'I want you to know that you couldn't break any rule that would make me vote for your expulsion. I don't want to have any dead Shelleys on my doorstep, and I don't care what you do.' She went to the window and looked out and she said, 'Well on those terms I think I can continue to live in this hellhole.'" The stuff about Enoch and Moloch is, of course, pure fabrication on my part.
Keywords/Tags: Millay, dead, Shelley, Vassar, dorm, hellhole, drinking, partying, ***, cutting classes

Stay alive
Another day
To drink away
Another night

Sobriety is overrated
I like it when my head spins
I like a little loss of control
I like intoxication