"cocktails" poems
Lithe, pharmaceutical muscles regulating microfiber hairs
Draw from the primitive neglect and sin
A clarinet changes the chemistry of champagne
Inside Humanity again
A stock infection of planets and galaxies
and their debris
Small enough to be e coli
and atomic dreams
Beading with the warmth of breath, persisting,
Naming dragons and archers in the infinity,
The cocktails brew people at the seams
Their sentences clapping the breeze
Into a day, or a season,
or her hand leading
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 9:50 AM UTC
Alien among aliens,
Fanning delicate fins to promenade
A prim coquette and starchy cavalier
Trimmed and tined in ossein finery,
Sipping shrimp cocktails, dancing demure
Circles before blushing coral courts,
Holding hinds in groves of turtle grass
Until the paisley bodies
Bump bellies, and she imbues his pocket
With inklings marooned in dreaming Pegasus.
Aug 15, 2010
Aug 15, 2010 at 11:10 AM UTC
I came along to your garden, to see your chillies growing
Unaware of what laid in wait, or what was really showing
There stood a glass a lidded drink, familiarity of knowing
If that's what I think it is, I don't want it overflowing
Do my eyes forsake me, is that a fluid from the body
Is that froth of a good beer, or from a head that's shoddy
Does it look like what it is, a very dodgy toddy!
Ghoulish drinks will turn you green, like Goblins are in Noddy
What the hell you thinking off, with water that's distilled
It smells like the local gents, so it should not be spilled
I don't mind a special brew, but this time I'm not thrilled
Unusual cocktails are okay, but not ones you have filled
Aren't beverages supposed to be, refreshing and thirst quenching ?
You say that it's good to drink, but really it's gut wrenching
An endless supply you may have, but it should be toilet drenching
Don't ever make a wankers drink, by using a fist clenching
You wouldn't want this drink on tap, it defies imagination
It's just the same as a lady, drinking her own ************
It maybe the water of life, but it's just urination
Aqua vitae is not my idea, of a real drink designation
Even just the thought of it, makes me feel sick and hazy
To drink a glass of this stuff, you must be ******* crazy
Well talk about recycling, or are you just bog lazy
Is Harvey Denton related, or do you live in Royston Vasey
People like to drink sometimes, is there something I have missed
You seem to have your own ideas, but with a certain twist
A brand new meaning you have brought, to getting yourself ******
Golden showers are one thing, but that's when your sexually kissed
There's one thing I'd like to know, so what do you say
Why do you think that drinking **** will keep the germs away
It cant be very good for you, it's an inside body spray
Your just drinking toilet water, hay Jay are you ****** today ?
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
I wish I liked you more
When you're sober
The way you bubble over when you're tipsy
Is so enticing
I want to sip off your sweet nothings
That all wash away down the drain by dawn
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 3:16 AM UTC
you
modified magic lantern
incarnadine
soul
puppet show
short dresses
free
cocktails
little swords
and
big drama
where we
make love
in the
dressing
room
I watch you
don
the sheets
and cut
eye holes
while I grab
the light
and radiate
your
behind
the audience
better not
see
that
***
I’m
protective of
my baking
flour
*****
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
*** *** *** ba-dum da-dum]
The Cuck walked up to the cocktail stand
and he said to the man running the stand...
"HEY!" *** *** *** "Got any *****
The man said "Go away you filthy perv."
"Cocktails is all I've ever served!"
"Why don't you take a hike?"
The Cuck said "Go ***** a ****
The he strutted away! [struttin' struttin']
He gotta get paid! [by the hour]
Gotta go to work! [at Trump Tower]
... 'Til the very next day.
*** *** *** *** *** ba-dum da-dum]
The Cuck walked up to the cocktail stand
and he slapped his **** onto the stand...
"HEY!" *** *** *** "Got any *******
The man balled his fists and said...
"Why don't you go get a pocket toy and ***** that you filthy pervert who can't get laid so he comes and bothers the cocktail man because he has no game!
How about you go to another bar and stop acting LAME!"
The Cuck said "Your sister wasn't lame."
Then he zipped up his pants [waddle waddle]
as he strutted away [got the zipper stuck]
but that's all okay [showing off the package]
Till the very next day.
*** *** *** *** *** ba-dum da-dum]
The Cuck walked up to the cocktail stand
and he said to the man running the stand...
"HEY!" *** *** *** "Got any ******
The man got ****** then he started to smile.
"Come on, fellow! I bet you haven't had ***** in a while."
Then they strutted away [my **** itches]
but that's okay [they don't care they're *******
watch out for snitches [shut yo **** mouth]
'Till they arrived at the trap house
*** *** *** *** *** ba-dum da-dum]
"Here you go sir, she'll make your **** stir
She's even got a sister you can **** next to her!"
The Cuck's mind began to go....
"How about.... no!"
"But I like this place...
It makes my heart race...
and it would bring me joy....
it would make my day...
do you think we could...
do you THINK we could...
double team your wife so you don't have to pay?!"
Then he scrambled away! [zipping up his pants]
The man was angry in a trance! [hope he tied his shoes]
He even left the ***** [why'd you do that]
Instead he ******* the Cat.
*** *** *** *** *** ba-dum da-dum]
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 9:43 PM UTC
endless
summer
trance of the cool breeze
careless
summer
dance of the palm trees
you can
catch us
singing
beside
bonfires
or maybe
surfing
the late
sunset
whilst
drinking
homemade
cocktails and listening
to the whistles of purple orchids
you can meet us by the golden shore
on sands that can't wait to get into your
toes and tell old stories about heroes
and beautiful women of the land
who had hips that could rock the
molten lava out of mauna kea
you can enjoy the moment with us
leave your worries and your cameras
and lose yourself to the gentle swing of your
hammock and to the wishful kissing of the ocean
and to the warm blackness that sings you to
sleep to good vibrations that radiate out of
the strumming of my thumb that lullabies
the little brown child i carry in my arms
who the world named ukulele
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 10:03 AM UTC
Well, well, well
Something that you don't wish to obtain:
wellness.
Whether it be hunching over the toilet,
evacuating today's third feast of the day,
or continuing to hear whispered words from made-up beings,
not taking the cocktails to silence them
or maybe, just continuing to stay empty,
not letting anything fill the void
Staying sick --
Whether it be of the body,
mind,
or soul,
will not make others love you more,
and it will not make others stay
but it will have them fade away
just
like
you
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
I’ve seen colors melt, colors mold over, colors who stick to the sides of
Other colors
I’ve seen colors which soak to the quick of wood and skin, ones that spill over
Or dry like deserts
I’ve seen colors that congeal like the living, I’ve seen the same ones mixed to death
I’ve seen colors pool, colors rust and colors boil
I’ve seen colors that don’t read maps
Colors that overrun, overturn, overlove their neighbors
And ones that play well in sand
I’ve seen colors that drink cocktails, drink water, drink blood
Together
Colors that get bored, colors that get sexed
I’ve seen colors ripped from the earth
Seen them ghost to other places
I’ve seen colors give up, every time, waiting for air, for shelter,
For Godot
I’ve seen colors grow cold like science
Grow loud like a flag unfurling
Grow up, move out, move on
I’ve seen colors stuck in between things
These same colors fill empty spaces
Fill vision, fill cups of coffee
I’ve seen colors tell white lies
They aren’t white
They are happy
And they aren’t here for us
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 6:34 PM UTC
She mentioned in passing,
That if anything was to happen,
They asked if I could be yours.
To shout at to tidy my room,
Clean the dishes,
Or tell me to **** off when my heart was broken.
You think your greatest gestures were the presents, tickets, trips, autographs,
The army of "Please look after this bear" Paddingtons,
But you're wrong.
It was the two sentence emails,
Telling me cocktails could take the edge off chemo.
It was teaching me how to swear.
It was the cough and mumbled 'Luvyuutu" over the phone, reluctant but not regretful.
That call she made probably ended,
With a pause, a gulp, a tremor in your voice.
It would be you who'd shorten such an important answer.
A "Yep".
A clack of the phone on the desk.
And a "Luvyuutu, Ferg." after you hung up.
Jun 24, 2011
Jun 24, 2011 at 1:22 PM UTC
Prosecco cocktails, être pour la danse,
cassis pour moi avec limoncello,
madame, passion fruit, and blood oranges
très grownup, breakfast at Tiffany's,
she is all sunglasses and Audreyfied,
me and George P., struggling writers,
checking if i got enough cash
or have to exit smooth, just in case,
maybe we leave our
coats behind, as ransom?
lincoln center plaza cross-dressers,
past the opera,
the sun, a balmy thirty five degrees,
laughing at us teasingly,
cause tonight and tomorrow,
*********** all the day,
winter kisses
in case we forgot,
early March
first belongs to the Ides of Winter
Afternoon of a Faun,
another ballet, origin,
a Mallarmé poem.
(you begin to comprehend)
yes quite so,
a perfect synopsis of the day,
Acheron imported from Scarlett Liam
who lives in the U.K.,
but comes to choreograph here,
for gloria Americana
sundown, soul cold back,
"lest we forget,"
but the dancers bid us adieu
with a rousing waltz, frenchified,
La Valse, une poème chorégraphique,
by Ravel, bien sûr!
aroused and heart gladdened,
return home for
for veal chop love
two hours of *** banging,
kitchen banishment, (Yay!)
chanterelles steeped in red wine,
coverlet for a non-vegan tasting,
English peas, red and purple potatoes,
and for desert,
a diet dream of verbal exchanged of detailed
I love you's
He: I love you,
She (happy), replies: I love you more.
(this repartee ballet, has been rehearsal danced before)
He: Why?
She: Because you are kind and generous, to street beggars, my single friends, good and smart, love art,
and never let me down, and love my cooking, leave space for others when you park, go thru life making waiters and ticket takers smile and laugh, sleep for hours your head on my hip, write me crazy love poems about veal chops
He: What's for desert tonight?
She: A ****
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
The glitter of strobe
gratuitous gaiety
platitudes
and sanctimonious guile
******* cocktails
on the menu
an ingratiating mask
a gratified grin
Contorted vocal chords
lots of laughter
no time for irony
look at me.
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
O bartender,
It has been a while
You slinging drinks with a casual smile
Cocktails you throw and stir and shake
And at closing time my heart does break.
O bartender,
What to say, you always know
Crafted words and my excitement grows
Tequila, beer or simply rather
"I'm glad you enjoyed, would you like another?"
O bartender,
You always look after me
Especially when you find me on a spending spree
Thank you bartender for all the great times
For this cocktail now which you call mine.
Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 5:47 AM UTC
Confessions of a Blessed Hedonist.( tri word line)
-1- -3-
Lived this long, what makes change?
Time just flew, a metamorphosis divine?
Mind playing games worms to butterflies,
Heart desiring ever. saviors, angels, messiahs?
extreme cravings doused. what makes humane,
opiates in zillions, friends, lovers, brothers?
Cocktails, a million. Destinies unknown working,
Endless revelries futile, in times unconscious,
Loves instant, genuine. drunken slumbers dead,
Clean beds crumpled, uncaring deeds cruel,
Checkouts late rewarded. Unmanly acts shameful.
-2- -4-
Friends dear betrayed, maybe one dream,
Away bartered loves. among nightmares plenty,
Much monies made, that one love-germ,
Abandoned ethics many. under in-differences heaped,
Gods all rejected, faint glimmering self,
Except the Hedonistic! beneath mountainous egos,
World enjoyed fully, a sparkling life-sign,
Life wasted lovely. in cemeteries silent.
Morphing every second, causes matter not,
Into grandiose nothing, by destiny’s graces,
Skeleton cynical final. gratefully unscathed still.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
Today I wanted to buy the copyright to the process of hallelujah
******* in joy the same way whales eat krill
You just bottle it up inside your lungs until you have enough
Inside my fridge I have vacuum sealed jars of hallelujah
There’s nothing religious about that
Jars labeled things like
Loss of virginity
Rob lived this time
The homework is complete
Hallelujah
It’s the same way prayer works
Backwards
Pulling bits of god like an inhale
I want to hyperventilate on your hallelujah
Like a gospel choir on speed
It collects
Over time
For instance
It was maybe a month in to sleeping at Delia’s and Toffer’s house
Before I realized
I didn’t have to sleep in my car anymore
You go into the bathroom to **** and realize
Hallelujah
A jar labeled
Found a Home for now
I know science can do this
For the sake of all that is a monument to a single life
So that on your death bed, or at your funeral
Everyone there can hold a jar
Cold and warm at the same time
Vibrating in their palms
In violent joy
Like mozzletoff cocktails
They are thrown
And when they shatter there is a song
That has been collecting for years
The same word in different tonal joys
Your life
Every good moment
Hallelujah
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
I didn't sleep again last night
my yesterday is still taking place
as my fingers gently press these keys
so as to not wake my brother
restless,
I realized,
I've seen a sunset
but never a sunrise
the streets were still asleep
the only ones about
only the down and out
the poor black folk
the aimless hipsters
the homeless
the single mothers with three jobs
who wait alone
under a flickering street light
for the bus which will take them
to their deadpan jobs
the puddles from last night's storm
rest with not a ripple
and the pretty little birdies
start finding their voice
restless,
I realized,
after the sunsets
the world opens up her eyes
periwinkle horizons
blend easily with the grey skyline
and the line between man and God blurs
the sky is tropical mango cocktails
and pillows of white Caribbean sand
the smell is left -
like a residue -
chasing after the tail of a storm
but the air is wet to the touch
hinting at repeat of the downpour
and I would've sat on the arm of that denim sofa
hour after hour
until the world was ready to wake up
giving me a chance to sleep off their insecurities,
only,
I felt like writing this poem
only,
I felt like a sunrise
or maybe a sunset?
or just maybe
a god **** supernova
I felt good
brimming with peace in my gut
like a warm fire
restless,
I realized,
that after all is set
I will still love the sunrise
Jun 8, 2013
Jun 8, 2013 at 6:08 AM UTC
To the blushing bride to be,
This rite of passage you’ll not be spared.
Let your hair down, be wild and free,
Allow your tales and secrets to be bared.
Not designed for hearts too weak,
This night’s when us girls misbehave.
In our tutus, fairy wings and pink feather boas,
We’ll paint the town red and rave.
We’re like one dysfunctional family,
But we’ll bond and shout tonight.
Cocktails and Prosecco will flow freely,
As we dance the “Macarena” ‘til morning light.
We’ll have a blast and be merry,
For girls just want to have fun.
Adorned with “L” plates, you won’t stay sober
And your makeup will inevitably run.
On this, your last night of freedom,
It’s your final fling before the wedding ring.
Your head may be sore tomorrow,
But, oh, the stories these walls could sing!
Remember this night always,
With all your girlfriends at your side,
For you’ll soon tie the knot and be married
And embark on a magical ride.
Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 1:05 AM UTC
We were two introverts
surrounded by an infestation
of the dipsomania and delight.
Ingested by white noise,
flashing lights
and sin,
we stood sheltered behind conservatism
and our cocktails.
This technophonic cave
was crammed with lascivious men
modeling their lavish kicks and threads
in pursuit of non-commitment.
With our backs pressed firmly
against our salutary wall,
we felt inviolable.
But then, you turned to me.
Your chandelier earrings exploded
the luminescence and trepidation
into a million particles,
and through the deafening roar
of pandemonium and decadence,
you offered a wink and said,
“Let’s dance.”
Dec 3, 2011
Dec 3, 2011 at 4:11 AM UTC
Her ribs crackled, in the skeleton night.
And I remember my mouth on hers,
where atomic fish hooks attached our lips.
Where there was nothing like kissing
like our God wasn't dead.
She was accused of killing a taxi driver
in the Brazilian underbelly.
Smoking a cigarette, she dropped it on the ground,
spat on it, and crushed it with her bare foot,
saying she fell in love with the way
his sleep-drenched body lay.
And I told her to stay home.
And I told her that they'd find her.
But she didn't stay home.
And they did find her.
Chasing her through the Babylon brush,
insults were thrown and so were balloons of gasoline.
Each pink, yellow, and green vessel floated in the air, as an internal opera heightened.
And sour splashes spread across her body,
as she fled from the vigilante mob.
The children danced along the panoramic horizon she ran beside,
laughing, pointing, singing.
The slumbering sorrow of the situation became evident,
and she started to feel the calm of fleeting life.
Her dreams aborted and her ideals became fallacies,
and with the sound of fuzzy motors in the background, her heart leapt and her feet slipped.
Rope ate into her, wrapping her like the orphaned recklessness of each set of eyes that painted her.
She squirmed amongst the cheers.
She cried with every thrown beer and balloon.
The empty-eyed males gang ***** her.
The women covered the children's eyes,
and the children tried to move their mothers' hands.
And I pushed my way through the crowd.
And I saw her smothered in blood, beer, and gasoline.
I wanted to halt the hurricane that destroyed morality.
But I am a coward.
Frozen by my fear, I, too, am a murderer.
And a murderer I'll always be,
for the burning of all that was good.
Sudden flames soared towards the sky.
Laughter escaped as molotov cocktails exploded onto her body.
Her head turned towards the crowd,
as flames scampered across her face.
I saw in her, what I never saw before,
which was the human race.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
Sick and cyclical memories linger, how unjust it seems
In somber city streets, her father's name she screams
When the fix is late and her body sodden and shaking
Her childhood recollections waking, every joint aching
Falling on tarmac, tearing stockings and fleshy knees
Through the distant mist it's a saviour that she sees
Marvin on a white steed, motorbike and leathers
To get her straight he only requires her nethers
What difference could it make to such a worn woman
So little that her eyes glaze as he announces his comin'
And she's immediately put to work after initial transaction
All night shifts, ****** abstraction, customer satisfaction
Returning 'home' to Marvin where the earnings are counted
Giggling schoolgirl as playful stories of John's are recounted
And Marvin's insatiable perversions are compounded
****** cocktails and deviancy, her psyche confounded
The **** sleeps blissfully beside his new top girl
And through ****** daze, she examines her world
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do!
Cockcrow! Wake up, you poor humans!
The crazy, heartless sapient-irrationals!
You glug your cocktails in our names,
And slay, roast, and offer us to God,
And atone slyly your un-atonable sins.
Our lovely sickle tails, you used, once,
To concoct the cocktails you gulped;
And coveted our red comb and wattle,
The bright yellow of our cape and hackle,
The glittering blue of our wing bows,
And the violet-red of the back and saddle.
Oh no! Don’t strip us of our fair plumage
Our sickle, main tail and the lesser sickle,
Our fluff, hock joint, shank and the spur,
To the toes and claws, for you to toil
Hard, to fry--stir-fry—us, **** in your oil,
For your vain cocktail-less cocktail summits.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 8:47 AM UTC
I'd been trying to write a poem
Just one ******* poem
But he said
*Just **** around*
Swallow down a bowl full of squares
Let’s play games with each other’s minds
Spend a night lost in a house of cards
Where the joker cackles despite your begging
A reminder of what I could do without
Shouting at the world from the white pavilion
You suckers!
With your skirts hitched up and tongues hanging out
Gagging on a lover’s loneliness
All I see is your undergarments crying for attention
With a liquor solace barely down your throat
Eighteen silver blades
Smile at me with their perfect teeth
One to mark each year that past
A nineteenth will not be necessary
Ready to drag
Like the man trailing his head on a string
Across the surgeon’s winking knife
Tapping their toes on the bathroom counter
Anxious to mingle with my flesh
I’ve already scrubbed in
The survival rate looks dismal
The cotton reel loosens and my halo slips
Down - the noose around my neck
He sat across the room in plaid
Remarked upon the crosshatch of red
That drew the crooked red grin on the white of my thigh
Like loops of raspberry liquorice
Seeping out sticky tears
He misses handling the vegetables
Who ordered cocktails in lurid colours
Well, I’ve a mélange of my own
A collection of prescriptions from the doctor’s office
Stored in a heart shaped box
To swallow down like jelly beans
I’m waiting for that deadly sugar rush
Death’s been dancing on my doorstep
Absent minded as I sit at the dinner table
Head in hand, foot in grave
There’ll be no morning migraine
Perhaps a little mourning in the peripheral vision
Swept up from beneath the climbing frame
Under a soil blanket with a tomb stone mattress
Coughing up the sand in my throat
That I emptied from the egg-timer
Those darling quadrilateral crystals
Blissful in their ignorance
Disturbing my quiet complacency
Drowned in a glass of tomato juice
That I poured from my skull
Death holds my hand in the dark
And I whisper to pass on the message
Bury me with pyjama’s and a pillow
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 6:23 AM UTC
Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do!
Cockcrow! Wake up, you poor humans!
The crazy, heartless sapient-irrationals!
You glug your cocktails in our names,
And slay, roast, and offer us to God,
And atone slyly your un-atonable sins.
Our lovely sickle tails, you used, once,
To concoct the cocktails you gulped;
And coveted our red comb and wattle,
The bright yellow of our cape and hackle,
The glittering blue of our wing bows,
And the violet-red of the back and saddle.
Oh no! Don’t strip us of our fair plumage
Our sickle, main tail and the lesser sickle,
Our fluff, hock joint, shank and the spur,
To the toes and claws, for you to toil
Hard, to fry--stir-fry—us, **** in your oil,
For your vain cocktail-less cocktail summits.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
Now the New Adventure excitement dares...
And...HUH? Your waiting Preview disappeared!
But, why? With so much Stories we do care
How fruitful and ******* your Holiday reared
You signed with a Smile; That much Girls adore
Inside the Jet would Paradise lay its Leis
From there the Codec stopped; Much I restore
What may have consumed the rest of the Day
Spottings? Cocktails? Folklore or Breaker-Dance,
None which I Follow or Dare to presume
This is your Notebook; Far to live by Chance
On how you Grow and Party in your Room.
Preserve your Courage. This is your Best Hour
To check New Frontiers; Increase your Mind by far.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
Where skin meets pole,
In low society.
Is where I thrive.
This isn’t the right choice.
Singles hustlin.
Join me in these dollar days.
This is your light switch entrance.
Sitting at a marble bar
Loveless love, pay by the song.
Selfish fun, ***** talking on the jukebox.
Jazzin’ to the music.
Standing up on that marble stage,
Showing the world whats yours is ours.
Drunken memories lived to the fullest.
I’m out trying to discover America.
Stripped down to its rawest form.
This road is laden with fallen philosophies.
Tasting of ***** money.
Bitter.
Fully **** girls flashing. (lights)
Blow in the bathroom.
The nightlife you’ve always wanted.
Movie star lifestyle.
Dimly lit.
Have some backroom privacy.
Conversations with strangers.
This is naked in all sense of the word.
Sensual seduction.
Classical redemption.
Primal ecstasy.
Trying to make amends with myself.
This is a haggard lifestyle.
Society frowns upon us.
Shameful scandals.
Fake lovesick mannerisms
Paid for in advance.
Exposed on stage.
You’re in love with a stripper.
Kitty, Desire, Destiny, Velvet.
All the love you’ve been looking for,
For the price of admission.
Just sit back and watch the girls on stage.
This is it.
We’re searching for love.
And if we cant find love,
We’ll settle for lust and luck.
You’re well taken care of here.
Don’t you worry about a thing.
Just don’t run out of money.
Superficial lover for a pay as you go one-night stand.
Never lonely here.
Late night tonight.
In the back of the club.
Are we having déjà vu yet?
You’ve been here before.
You’ll be here tomorrow.
Just a little longer now.
Climbing up the pole to the ceiling,
Only to slam down in the splits.
Don’t worry it can only get better from here.
This is the right choice.
Bright light flashing.
You’re finally in the spotlight.
Sold out, checked out, cashed.
“Let me do all the work sweetheart.”
We must live the way we feel is right.
We’re all trying to make our way in this world.
Lets not forget each other.
Cocktails anyone?
Is this wrong?
Living in this life.
This party
that never ends.
Nov 18, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 at 8:38 PM UTC