She's wearing my jeans,
Whilst I wear her hands on my neck.
18, and emotionally drunk.
Is it cheesy to say I don't want this night to end?

shifting between polar bears
man i’m ******* bipolar
i hate you i love you, hell knows
should i have let you walk?

we were a **** show
brutally perfect kind of picture
hung on my toilet bowl
looking at you
as i puke up the xan bars of last night's party
while you lit up ur blunt

sending u my nudes
while writing love letters
we’re having a rad time
until we a mess

corruption
******* the pain away in our basement
i'm hurting i'm screaming onto the highroad
pulled up my skirt on the curb like a side ***
pick me up pick me up again
car lights flashing

i’ll be your own girl
I’ll do you right doe
while you flying in from LA
crashing your cute face
******* wrecking it against the ground boy

Take me back to a different hotel every night and living out of a suitcase. Getting comfortable in our naked bodies around each other; comparing breast size and stretch marks—examining ourselves like the men who’ve carelessly fondled us before for our likes and dislikes. Sharing a bottle of lukewarm tequila in the world’s smallest bathtub and then I sing you to sleep. Highway cars buzzing past and there’s only one road to get lost on, but we manage it every single time. Your car becomes a dressing room at gas stations where people stare with disapproving glares and worry for the safety of their wallets; because we don’t belong here but we laugh—still drunk from the early morning hours and just trying to find the next check-in spot for the night. There never is a real destination but home always seems too close and we both hate that part. It doesn’t feel right when it ends or when I have to crawl back into my own bed without a time frame to be out by in the morning—before the housekeeping maid comes banging on our door,
yet again.

All You See is a drunkard on the skew

Hand full of bourbon,

A head void of thought

With scent that reeks of a night good for naught

All I see is a memory

A ghost of what used to be

Of a man of most charming disposition

And most dreaded of devils

It has made him empty

Has caved him whole

Left him to patch himself up with ***** and whiskey

All I see is a friend long forgotten

Of a man long gone

Replaced with empty bottles and a head full of cotton

I turn and look at the man on the skew

He looks back but does not see

His eyes an unfocus void not upon me

I turn

And I leave

All I see is a drunkard on the skew

Mmmm... I’d forgotten
How much I really do enjoy alcohol
Not the drink so much...
But the feeling
Intoxication is exquisite
Pleasant, content, peaceful, relaxed....
Mm... maybe I’ll have a bit more

-
I bet you've heard of drunk texting
I bet you've experienced drunk calling
Now let me introduce you to drunk poetry
-
I'm intoxicated off these words I'm spelling
Truth in my cup and I'm spilling
These thoughts got my head spinning
Double cups filled with my pain
Mumble rappers think they got game
Trouble should be my middle name
Cause I can switch rhyme schemes
Like some people switch lanes
-
They say the drunk never lie (that's a lie)
I don't want to wear a suit and tie
So bury me in a T-shirt and track paints when I die
Promise not to cry
I know its hard saying goodbye
That's why we get high and drunk while we young
We just want to have a good time
-
Lowkie®

I roll your name around my tongue,
try it on for size and fit
and note the heart-flutter it gives me
before a gulp and swallow ingests you

I ponder and digest your vitamins
as sense prevails
and I return to business as usual

ℜ𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢
𝔖𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔰
𝔄 𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔟
𝔒𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔣
𝔒𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔤𝔢
ℑ𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔢 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢'𝔡 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔨
𝔈𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔨𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔉𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔶
ℭ𝔶𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫