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Sammi Yamashiro Sep 2020
Caffeine.
Nearing addict
status; once spurned pure black
but now it’s my composition.
Jitters

my thoughts;
next round is scotch:
Next, I’m alcoholic.
Yet, withdrawal never latches.
I’m safe.
Two Cinquains. Describes how I overindulge in coffee (I once couldn't stand the taste of black coffee and now I can't get enough of it) and I fear that alcohol will do the same to me (I don't like the taste of it but maybe I'll love it too much like I do coffee). Yet, even with coffee, I can drink heavy amounts of it for days and be completely fine (not experience withdrawal symptoms).
So with my anxious thoughts, they seem like they will stick with me forever but in the end, I'll be fine.
Michael H Aug 2019
When the sky is on fire and puddles have dried.
The red clouds reflect from the blue of my eyes.

A soft static energy promises night...
A few Scotch and sodas?

I think I just might.
Lewis Hyden Dec 2018
Fire stirs gently
In the depths of my chest.
Hot rocks, rolling
The molten stones down to

My stomach. The
Ache is quelled, substitute
To flame. Piping
Cold nectar, as gold,

Drawing only the
Boldest flames, dragon-like,
From my throat, my eyes,
My thoughts,

Invoked. Strong,
Stirring-gold, brazing,
Golden flames. Quell
The pains of my

Productivity.
Sooth the raw burns
Of my purpose,
Or lack thereof.
A poem about alcoholism.
#31 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
Terry Collett Sep 2018
Bill Evans was playing piano
on the record
on her hi-fi.

She had just gone
to fill up our glasses
with scotch.

I lay there on her bed
waiting for her return.

I could hear the jazz piano
and the double bass
and snaring drums
and the gentle beat.

She came back
holding two glasses
with the amber nectar.

I studied how
her two firm *******
stood there naked
and her blue eyes
on me smiling.

She lay the glasses
one each side of the bed
and climbed back in.

We sipped our scotch
and she said about
the phases of the moon
and how the moon's pull
had influence
upon women's
menstrual cycles
and the effect
on some people's minds
what was called lunacy.

The scotch was good
and Bill still played his piano
and she drained her glass
and the talking stopped
and we lay down again
hugging close
listening to rain.
Ben At93 Jan 2017
Pour me a drink,
A scotch with a gin,
I need to think,
Of life and dreams,

Pour me a drink,
Shot after another,
Don't ask me of my being,
Tomorrow I'll put myself together,

Pour me  a drink,
I wanna bask in a perfect sin,
Fix me something right,
And Lemme drink all night,

Pour me a drink,
I'm but a stranger to your eyes,
I have friends to turn to but,
I don't want to drown them with my demise,

Pour me a drink,
Oh, lemme feel my heart pound,
I have a friend coming for me,
So keep em coming til I can see sounds,
Summer Michelle Mar 2016
You drink to what I have
And don't,
To what I want,
And lost.

Here's to you,
And your bitter soul.

Cheers.
Jack Thompson Oct 2015
The curtain of night folds elegantly into place.

Scotch and lip gloss to taste.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
scar Jun 2015
"sturm und drang" sagt ein mann
on the train
it's snowing.

agley they gang, the best-laid plans
plus the pain
of knowing.
Devashish Kumar Jun 2015
“What’s your favourite drink?
Really old scotch or champagne.”
“Nah!
Her wet lips.”
13 words
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