Went to the mailbox on Sunday morning  
Nothin’ ever written, never a hint or warning  
Expected a normal letter  
Got a blues death letter instead  
Had a black strip, these types, not so widespread  
He liked to have a drink of liquor  
Same amount as any other blues guitar picker  
But not enough to become so dead  
Blues and whiskey, just go together  
Might as well be said  
 
You see, I was born broke  
You had a chance with life  
But you did nothing with it  
At least you got that, from the blues  
But you only loved one thing  
And that one thing was whiskey  
In the end, it made you blue  
 
Came home with blonde locks, one evening  
Never spoke, stray again, he’s leaving  
Praying for a lasting marriage  
Got that letter instead  
Man had a dark side  
These types, wanting more thighs spread  
He liked a sing, a ballad, a music hall singer  
Same amount as any other blues guitar picker  
But not enough to become so dead  
Blues and whiskey, just go together  
Might as well be said  
 
You see, I was born broke  
You had a chance with life  
But you did nothing with it  
At least you got that, from the blues  
But you only loved one thing  
And that one thing was whiskey  
In the end, it made you blue

Prepped
Shaved and clean
Feeling Shiva tonight
End of the world

Knowing fate
Intro to Outro
Fateful fornication
With a light

The wait is over
Floor cracked
Drinks have gone
Astray

"So tell me how you're so confident." You say with a glimmer of seduction in your half shut eyes, your head leaned back- I want you. I want to watch you melt in my hands. I'm slipping on snow on the patio but your glance keeps me steady, I want your hands on me already. You're 10 years older but I've caught your eye, I make you want to say "she'll have another" on your dime. We're standing outside, you'll never see me again therefore I'll sink my teeth in. You move a little closer, I'll hate when this is over. I bite your lip- you breathe deeply and put your hand on my hip. I feel the soft ****** of your 5 o'clock shadow, you're hardly callow. I force myself to pull away- this is casual I say- I turn on my toes, my hair sways, and I toss one last hedonistic gaze to the man responsible for my daze.