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EEZ Oct 2016
Coffee and a Klonopin,
I've been thinking hard
on just how long it's been
You--me, me and you
I pop another one in
and you say it's cool.
But I've been so cold,
baby
These things are my seeds
they let me grow, baby.
Nothing feels right.
Blame it on the pills,
I've been seeking thrills, baby
sitting with some
hennesy on the floor,
just to stop the chills, baby.
Latiaaa Mar 2019
Tonight,
I will drink.
I will swallow the pride away.

Will you sing the stress away for me?

It's 3'clock in the morning and I still have a little left in my glass.

A bowl of cashews spell out 'You're a ******* mess' on the kitchen counter...

Oh god,
The sweet burning amnesia fills my brain,
I want to forget this night as if it never existed.

I want to forget why I am even on this Earth.

Take a shot with me as I forget it all.
Sara Jones Sep 2015
Love me, hate me, bleed me dry.
Kiss me, touch me, make me believe
In happy endings and meant-to-bes.
Push me, pull me, **** me softly.
Make me sober, make me salty.
Make me miss you, make me love you
Until there's nothing left
But endless packs of half-smoked cigarettes
And bottomless bottles of Hennesy on my lips.
july hearne Aug 2017
there's a drink called sweet burgundy
and then another drink called hennesy,
a ****** fine congac

as she sat down
with a glass of hennessy
waiting to die
and typed out her last livejournal entry

where she counted out the pills for us
and told us the names and colors of all three

names and colors i can't remember now
Arcassin B Oct 2015
By Arcassin b & wolfspirit


AB: Vanilla covered skin in different measures,
Crawling over your despair,
Desperation spites all in this tiny hour,
Only tiny cause the little hand won't move,
Watching all of the failures improve,
Then in the process creates a better you,
Don't move,
Just stay with me,
Smile for the camera,
I can't tell with the blank stares,
Your lack of confidence says you don't care,
Cute smile with the dyed red hair,
Every strand,
Every second,
I'm learning all your imperfections,
Can you at least just wait a minute for the close-up,
Every flaw,
And every lesson,
We usually have similar passions,
WSFQ : caramel coated crossover conversions
life teaching love to talk
love showing life the reality
daydream dilemma, my sweet inspiration
social status and lowly station
time ticks and tocks
on the streets and in the bedrooms
down the dark hall of when
to the end of that tunnel
where there is light
oh, but wait!
is that an oncoming train?
is passion clashin' with the latest fashion?
jump steady, rock a roller
hip hop backstreets and coca cola
this is where we separate the soda pop
from the Hennesy.
Wolves in the Ark
Star Gazer Mar 2016
Mom
Mom was always a questionable figure in my life. She has inspired me but nonetheless not every parent is perfect, not even in the eyes of their child. I can remember at a young age of eight, I asked mom, "Mom, how will I know when I'm mature?" Her response still echoes in my head when I come to a stand still situation. She said "You are mature when you realise that going into your room and slamming your door does not make your problems disappear and they may be lurking in the room with you or right outside of the door". Obviously at the tender age of eight, I had no idea what she meant so I decided to give my own interpretation; "so there will be times we need to get a new door?"

Since I grew up without a father, Mom was forced to work to take up the bread-maker role and provide for my extra interests and any other things since I wanted to grow up slightly interesting. So "James Patterson books that you're probably going to read once and costs $50 sure son, I'll buy it for you". "Guitar lessons for your clumsy hands so you can woo the ladies? sure". I wasn't spoiled, don't get me wrong. I worked with my Aunts cafe (they are extremely successful; I think it's ripping off her employees and sacrificing the blood of a thousand babies or something. You get the picture; even though they are family, they aren't exactly the best people in this world. Then again you might argue success is the outcome of severity).

My mother was also the one to give me the talk (yes, that one with the bees,butterflies, magic liquids, ***** and elephants) , I could recall the embarrassment I felt from that moment. To clarify, I wasn't exactly old (about 12-13) nor did I have the maturity of a child but the conversation went a little like this -

      "Hey, do you know how to use a ******? To keep you safe in case you are ever... if you ever ... want to engage in intimate activities with a girlfriend".

      "Yea, mom I'm good. It's just like wearing a hat".

      "You know, if you put it on your head you will probably get someone pregnant".

      "Mom, I didn't mean I'm going to wear it like a hat, I'm going to wear it where I should be wearing it".

      "Don't fill it up with water and pretend its a water balloon before too and don't blow it up like a balloon".

      "Why are you telling me this mom? Sounds like you know someone who did it before?"
        
     Mom with a giggle and starts to sidetrack to an anecdote of the past; "Yes actually, when you were little you thought they were balloons. You were so small and adorable, who'd known so many years pass".

     "Ok thanks Mom, I got it. I don't think I'll ever get a girlfriend in this life though, seems a like a lot of work. The flowers, the gifts, the talking. I don't even know how to talk to a girl".

     "Simple, you talk to a girl, by talking to them like anyone else...Do clean up your language and don't be too stupid though. It's ok to show people you care about that you care, no matter who they are to you".

Now earlier I said, questionable, that's because she at times can be a hypocrite. I recall asking her at about 15, -

"is it ok for me to cry? I mean it feels strange, there's this something I can feel. I don't know how to describe it, but I don't know whether to cry or to scream or to just ..."

"It's ok for a guy to cry, it's ok for anyone to cry. The biggest importance is that you know to wipe those tears and keep going. Tissues work but I would recommend letting it roll down your cheeks and you'll realise, all you are doing is making yourself look more miserable and it's really not going to change much".

"Did you cry Mom? Like when ... passed away?"

"No. I didn't shed a single tear".
                    (Obviously she was lying because I had heard her on many occasions on my fathers funeral day sometimes every third year or some years in a row. We live in a small house where the walls are thin).

Mom being the only person I know to ask for advice. I approached her with question on love, when I was about 17 after somehow finding a girl who said she liked me.

        "Mom how do you know when you are in love? Or how do you know you should love that person and what if they don't love you back?"

       "Simple, love is when you miss the presence of someone in your life. Love can be between family. Love is thinking of them even when you're suppose to be doing other stuff. Love is caring how they are or how their day goes. Love is like seeing a light at the end of a tunnel filled with roses".
(Roses have a significant meaning to me, I always place Roses at the two most important people in my lives, one is my father, who altered who I have become, and the other is my greatest friend. Roses aren't something I give away, I have never given a rose unless it came straight from the heart. I know, you're probably thinking it's just a flower. It was the flower that my father first purchased for my mother , it was the flower that was at the wedding reception, it was the flower that I had placed on the casket and it's the flower I give to people I know I will always cherish with my heart).

Mom was remarkable, I would have not been happier with any other mother. There are times we fight but we always mend things.

I remember staggering home drunk, unable to fit the key into the lock and face reddened by the number of friends who kept telling me "just another one".
About a week later, my mother who doesn't drink except an occasional beer to fit into the mood of a party sat me down and asked me how many things did I drink that night. I started listing drinks, thinking she would be proud (stupid teenager brain, I know)... " So i had a shot of some vanilla ***** thing, but I was already drunk at that point. I had some absinthe thing....Oh i had some wings. I had about four beers. I think I had hot chips. I think I also had some Hennesy but it might have been water".
        Her face reddened and for that second I thought my neck was due for a snapping, nothing happened. All she said was -

          "At least you knew to eat, but don't drink too much. I raised you this old all alone, I don't want to have to lose you to something as stupid as alcohol. Also if you want to drink, just don't. Not until you are 18 anyways".

One more fight I could remember which happened quite recently was the passing of my great grandmother (god bless her soul; r.i.p), I remember being upset at my mom for not telling me about great grandmas passing, especially since it was during Final examination periods and she waited till after. Which in retrospect I had no idea why I was mad, just failed to realise it must have been harder for her than it was for me.

There was this one time, when I was about six, a boy in my class, lets call him Peter had teased me about my dead father. Kids will be kids and kids will also be cruel. I came home that day after school asked mom.
            
                   "Mommy what do you do if someone you don't like talks about you?"

                  "When I was a kid, I knocked a girl down and stepped on her neck but you shouldn't do that because when you do that, his mom will surely get upset same way I will get upset if someone hurts you".
                
Ignoring what she said , six year old me shoved Peter to the ground and placed my shoe on his neck screaming things, I obviously must have heard somewhere
               "You're lucky I'm sparing you".

Since this was still before school , my mother witnesses this, pushes me off the kid and makes me apologise and checks to see if the boy is alright. My mom told the teachers on me, and I don't remember the consequences but I can recall she told me to talk with Peter after the apology. Peter forgave me with his open heart and became my best friend from 6 till 18 ( at 18 we had a falling out but we've been best friends for long enough for me to cherish and forgive him for everything. We just never grew closer ever again. Plus congratulations, he's getting engaged :)   ).

             Thank you Mom, for raising me to be the man that I am today. I still struggle speaking to girls ( I didn't speak to a girl till I was 14, so I am sure I have some social issues but I try to make things work), but Mom you've taught me everything from driving, to shaving, to cleaning up after myself, to knowing how to respect people and understanding that sometimes things need to be talked out and that's all that's required. We don't say "love you's " in our family but deep down in my silent heart, Mom just know that I love everything you have given or tried to give me and thank you for letting me live the life I have lived. Bye
Alex Burt Nov 2015
eyes so green
dream so blue
can i come **** it up with you?
come with me, meet the crew, and we'll move you on to something new
come with me
if you want the greens
cause ***** goggles is how i see

Blunted till i see visions
i got something to say so you should take a seat and listen
see livin lifes a mission but the benifits is missin
i got you a drink so you should prolly get to sippin
don pereigom till im gone
and OG chron is all im smoking on
see on the weekends the hennesy is flowin
and i always leave the ******* on the dot and in a dash like a semi colon
Homies only i dont **** with any of you newbie *******
like B rabbit yo i made my claim to fame
and the gold in my bars i dont need a ******* chain
you aint been smoking the dank and the governents to blame
mind is gettin cloudy i know you might feel the same
blunt after blunt until im numb;
novacaine
**** just messing around #bars #rapout
Nishant Rawat Apr 2020
Don't know why I feel this
Maybe I'm crazy
Is this infatuation?
Or love maybe?
Talking too much
Waiting for you to be lonely
Sitting for a while
Eyes checking on your activity
Usually on my guard
But hoping you notice me
All the sparkling smile
Your's the one I wanna see
Because there is not a lot like you
It's so true
Then someone came through
Introduced us and flew
As I greeted awkwardly
You acknowledged merrily
Conversing light-hearted
Not so guarded as we started
Drinking around freely
And talking nonstop till three
About friends and enemies
Pouring each other Hennesy
We clearly have a great synergy
In love with your energy
So I asked, "Tomorrow, are you free?"
She said, "why?"
I wanna know more of you
Hold your hands too
Because there is not a lot like you
It's so true
There is not a lot like you
Travis Green Mar 2022
I long for a solid, sultry, and tall king like him
That can stream into my life and change my world
Hold me close to him, rub and squeeze
My deliciously beddable *******, my lickable lit nips
****** and twist them viciously with his powerful teeth
Runs his hands over them
Fondling with them sensually
Let his tongue run wild all over my body

Let me see his freaky side, how dangerous he is
He’s such a badass bad boy
So deliciously mouthwatering
A steamy hot glass of chocolate sliding down my throat
A shot of Hennesy in my system
He makes me freak out
He turns my lights out
His super **** masculinity so hypnotizes me

I hanker to be down for him, to do whatever he commands
He is my attractive chocolate captain
A hard-bodied and enthralling machine
He seduces my ship immaculately
His manhood is so rude and ruthless
Tantalizing, thrilling, and game-changing
His masculinity is my aesthetically alluring mural
To marvel at and sink into his incredible blazing storm

I can feel him in my stomach
He disrupts my nerves
He corrupts my world
The way he clings to me makes me stumble and crumble
He knows my body so well
He pins me down
I drown in his sea of sensual flames
I admire his big size pipe
His hot sack of *****

I hunger to enter his center of supremeness
Explore his inner paradise
His pleasurable passionate depths
His slick city soul of excitement
Mesmerizing masculine thunder
In his warm ardent entrance
Is where I discover my world of treasure
I want him on top of me
Wreck my vessel
Stretch the limits of my kingdom
Let me be in synchronicity with his frequency

— The End —