Going out to the club
I know I'm going to have a good time
I just know it
I'm attractive
Muscular
In the best shape of my life
I have brown puppy dog eyes
And a face to compliment it
Yup off to the club
Cause I know I'm gonna hit that

Using what I learned
I'm all ready to get it at the club
Walk up to a girl say
"What up I got a big ****"
She slapped me in the face
Not a smooth attempt
But I'll get it next time!

Moving on to the next girl
Her eyes look at me
Like a seductive tigress
Fierce
Predatory
Hot
Oh yeah this is happenin'

"Hey girl how you doin?"
"Doin' fine big boy!  How 'bout yourself?"
"Doin' **** baby doll!  You be lookin' hot!"
"You not lookin' so bad yourself big boy!"
"**** straight!  Care to dance?"
"Pssh!  No one be dancing yet!  No one be drunk yet!"
"Who needs to be drunk!?"
"Well I do.  Why don't you buy me a drink big boy?"
"I don't drink and neither should you!"
And that's when she turned away uninterested
Ignoring me for the rest of the night
Who needs her
We don't need alcohol!

Turns out to have a good time
We need alcohol
Cause no one else acts clearly
But I can't drink!
Not out of religion!
Or the law!
Just can't not my thing
So far having a miserable time

I'm a sweaty mess
Not hitting any girls
It was fun when they were sober
Because now they lose their attitudes
All inhibitions are off
All are now the same personality

Now they begin to dance
Guys move behind them
***** rubbing ****
**** rubbing *****
Faster
Faster
Faster
***** pumping out
Flying everywhere
*** on guy
In the pant crotch area
The club smells like sweat and ***** and alcohol

The more good times they have
The drunker they get
The more they seem to drift off
What they gain in ****
I lose in fun

"I wanna *******!"
"Excuse me?"
"I wanna ******* big boy!"
"Sorry I'm not in the mood."
"How big is that ****?"
I'm hard
Why am I hard?
**** I shouldn't be hard!
"Ooo you're big, I wanna ****!"

Everything I came here for
In front of me
But it's wrong!
She's wasted!
I can't do this!
Why didn't this happen earlier!
But I wanna ****!
I should do it anyway!
"Give me an answer babe!  Yes or no."
Spinning spinning I have to say it

"No.... I can't, you're drunk"
"Hell yeah I'm drunk!  Take advantage of me!"
"Please don't.  I honestly have no idea what I'm doing"
"I'm gonna go dance with someone else"
"******* man!  You're *******!"
And ***** is now on my shirt
That is just great

Get home from club
Think about my chances of getting laid
Then realize that maybe that that isn't what I wanted in the first place
Maybe that lifestyle isn't me
Even if I wanted it to be
For just a night
Probably good that it isn't
Cause I'd **** at it

You like to party, I am a partier
You like to wander, I am a wanderer
Your thighs are the closet to Narnia
Is it cool if I go and get lost in that?

I'm the lion, the witch in the wardrobe
Massage my lap, I have a sore bone
Of course cold on the dance floor
Like an Eskimo's toes in the North Pole
With both toes poking out of two holes
In the Eskimo socks, I'm hot
Like a cauldron from a warlock
Wearing sweatpants in a sauna
Who's your father? I'm not

I'm *******' Raven Bowie and here's my ****
Rooster, ****-a-doodle-doo sir
Take a hit of the hooka, now make it drop

Girl's ***** was bigger than the stomach of Rick Ross
Holy mother mountain of tender tendon to get lost in
Bounce, bounce, that castle *****, that bottom
Make it wobble, wobbly-waddle 'til my third leg has to hobble

You don't want to look back on this night
And think I should have been freaking on a *****
Freak-freaking on a *****

Remember
Back in the day
When those parties
In Venice
That say would have 25 people or so
Walking through?

Now they were
Too big
Over-packed with
50-200?
With frat boy vibes?

Dana Rick and I
Arrived at one
And I thought a
At the sliding glass door
Oh God
And quickly escaped to the kitchen
Cutting through the living room
Where there was the make shift bar
Nothing much in the
Fridge

Anyway
I made my drinks
And turned around
To cross back
And somehow Dana was there
In front of me

She raised her hands
And wiggled through the bodies

While I
Said
NO
I will dance
When I feel like it
I choose

So I began to follow
And every elbow knees hip and arm
Reached out to touch me
Knocking all the contents out of
my little plastic cups

And though
I got to the other side
Contemplatively
Looking back
Empty

The three of us
Went to stand on the side of the house
Safe
By the water meter
And I laid down my cups
Laughing

So the moral of this story
Although I think it’s obvious
Is to
Go
With
The
Flow

Venice parties
You know those
200 in a space made for 50?
A monster that
You had to
Protect yourself from?

Three of us
In the living room and I got
To the Kitchen. For safety.

Serving adequate, and me
on my way back
Drinks in each hand
Bodies through Dana leading
Her arms above her head
bouncing she won’t spill a drop
The other hands follow
again, me with
stubborn arms
refusing
thus liquid contents emptied and
Sticky
the floor underfoot
Splashed

Outside
The water meter stood laughing
told us about the flow and to go with it

Retching over the rim of a toilet bowl,
how I was ever intimate with porcelain.
How or where I began is a misplaced origin.

He got me higher than I’d ever been before,
a relational swing, I dug into the unsteady gravel;
hours passed before my guard began to unravel.

***** never followed us to the park that day,
and he didn’t blink – even while we were liable –
as he rolled a fat blunt out of a page from the Bible.

Wherever peaches grow I go and pick 'em.
When they get ripe I try and swipe 'em.
The farmer runs out with a shotgun and wonders where's the
      varmint gone?
I'm hiding by the railroad tracks stacking the peaches I've
      found.

Then a freight train about a mile long rolls by hauling a bucket
      of rain.
I hop aboard while beautiful clouds gather to the north.
I put my peaches in the bucket and lug it to a hidden part of
      the train.
The rain begins, the night looms in, it's summer and it's
      thoughts and warm.

To the clacking rumble and the patter I close my eyes and
      dream.
An earthquake swallows up the people who wear horrible
      masks of fright as their daily tasks are trampled.
In a favorite movie theater an illumined lady puts her hand in
      mine, warm mouths, breath, skin, hair wing-soft, whole
      bodies, wind, bare.
I open my eyes at sunrise there's a steady glow of light
      around.

If you can believe in God, you can believe the mountains go
      from purple to green.
While the last partier meanders home to bed the first farmer is
      up to milk his bread.
Fruit of the world ripens audibly and cities make a silent,
      distant sound.
Lonely guy stretches, rubs his eyes, pees out a passing train,
      has a breakfast of peaches and rainwater.

A gentleman, my father is.
He’s kind, and loving, and caring.
A liar, my mother is.
Her anger is never sparing.
Patient, my father is.
He waits for freedom.
A partier, my mother is.
She wakes feeling like dung.
Quiet, my father is.
He thinks before he speaks.
Spontaneous, my mother is.
In another bed, her secret leaks.
Forgiving, my father is.
He lets her back inside.
Stupid, my mother is.
Her ringer is on high.

Broken, their marriage is.
Lying, cheating, deceiving.
Tired, I am.
For ever believing.

Alcohol
It can stain your lips red
Or leave your mouth with a certain taste or smell
Alcohol
You used it to forget
It eased your numbness
A raging alcoholic
Darling, why are you screaming???
The alcohol was enough to change you
One minute your fists are clenching the steering wheel
Knuckles white
The next you are swerving
And listening to elevator music
You laugh hysterically as you toss empty bottles out of your window
A raging alcoholic
You send me texts late at night
And call me crying at 4 a.m.
You can't drink on an empty stomach
And you've got it down to a science when it comes to sobering up for football in the morning
Your eyes are this hazy red
I can't remember if it's from the alcohol or your allergies, because you haven't taken your medicine in three months
I saw you as a broken jigsaw puzzle
Just waiting to be pieced back together
And you looked so cold
So lifeless
Your body is ivory white
Your lips feel like Alaska biting down on my neck with frostbite
I miss when you used to be happy
Truly, utterly happy.
The radio in your car hums slowly as the lights of the freeway ignite your face
Your vision is more blurry
Than when the doctor asks you
One or two
Your father yells at you when you come in from coming in so late
I am sorry
Sometimes I forget that you are someone else's son and they worry about you
Speaking of parents
You aren't the only one to possess alcoholism
My mother
A woman in her fourties has been elongated to this deadly desire since she was a teenager
I don't have my license yet
But she always makes sure to have a ****** Mary when we are out to eat
I happen to think it's because of me
Maybe she can't stand my company.
She has to poison her blood stream to be able to sit still when it becomes silent
The pearls on her neck glisten like the haze of her eyes
She seems far away.
It was the alcohol that caused the break up of our family
A man who turned to god and farming is still married to a teenage partier.
Maybe this is why my father hid all of the wine glasses in the house.
Her son
Has also turned to this deadly conundrum
He used to drink over four times the legal limit
"I know how to hold my liquor"
He'd say under slurred tongues
He was a natural
Relied on drugs and alcohol to soothe his depression
He got pulled over when he was 16 for drunk driving
And my father picked him up with shaky hands
A dissapoinment, he thought
He fell down a flight of stairs in an abandoned building
Broke his nose and laid in a pool of water until his friends found him
A lesson learned, you'd assume
We all work on it differently
The sadness, that is.
I mean
I write
But my neighbors drink themselves to sleep
An accident waiting to happen
When they choke on their own *****
I don't want to plan all of these funerals
I love you
Give it up

I've tried praying
but I lost my faith
        going down on my knees
Pushing myself a little further
                             a little faster
on this dirt road to living
       Or is it dying?
I'm getting tired of keeping
up this persona.
The partier, worker, student,
and lover.
I can't remember the last time
I slept more than 4 hours.
Just a little further,
        a little faster.
Keep it up.
I'm running top speed
but fuel is running low.
Can I keep up?

It’s amazing how we change.
It’s amazing all our games,
Were made for not a single thing
Then to tear us apart and give us shame.
I look at you and wonder still
How we made it work so well,
And I wonder how we made it last
When we were both stretching onto such different paths.
I look at me now and feel utterly free
To be the person I can be.
To stretch my limits beyond your grasp
And take on such a challenging path.
I look at you and all I can see
Is a boy becoming what he wanted to be,
A partier wanting more
From a life that he completely abhors.
I wish you more from life then this
Stumbling and bumping and continuing to miss
The true struggle that makes you feel so free
The one that every person truly needs.
-ALC January 14, 2017

and we just dissolved
into our own ways how
bad it felt
but to hear you did what you did
I saw you as a most logical *****
happy until the bourbon had you
spinning around
I recall when you gave me that smile
working behind the counter
at the bbq joint and we met eyes
and I saw a very nice girl
a sane partier
like me
never in my wildest dreams
would I have imagined you
being anywhere as demoned as much
as you were actually
we shared laughs
nights in arms and you told me
how he had done things to you
and I thought you had dealt
with all that,
I wish I had spent more time
while you were drunk finding things out
about you,
but,
it is too late now,
Stacy , you beautiful angel now,
blew your own brains out.
God help you.

I, like many, write better at night.
Somber lighting on my heart
makes it ache its most beautiful words.
I've always enjoyed nights more than mornings,
not that I am or was a partier,
I always enjoyed them even alone.

But there's something disturbing my nights
a creep inside my head, creeping.
A powerful beast, a honored fow.
Medication.
Medication rules my life,
it makes me feel,
or more accurately it doesn't.
It makes me sleep,
and I hate it.
I hate sleeping.
I hate sleeping and I feel like pills
are society's way of keeping me under control.

I hate them yet I need them so.
Like a lover needs their lover,
I need them.
I could've died without them,
I may not die thanks to them,
but how is my poetry affected?
How is the poet's word affected,
their mouth closed shut,
their throat focused in swallowing,
not singing.

I long for a day without pills,
without clouded thoughts,
a day of clear poetry.
I fear that day shall not come,
for I'm broken on the inside,
and my poetry is destined
to be restrained.

i.
The sky grinds
under my heel
& scatters.

When the pool
stills, there's only
your face.

ii.
Below
larch branch,
below
cloud mark -
your words
echo
in my
blue thought.

iii.
Centuries ago
I wrote to you
"je suys vostre
sans de partier."

iv.
Sleep falls
to the floor,
its strings cut
by your hand
running over
my face.

v.
We move
shadow to
shadow in
this maze
of sun.

vi.
We hold hands
as night folds
& folds. Your
hand is soft
as song.

vii.
We make
love under
a coil, a
swan's moon,
a sea disc.

viii.
Autumn
in Paris,
streets paved
orange and red,
& my eyes saying
"want you."

ix.
You know what
champagne does
to me, but you
pour it anyway.

x.
"She was hiding
in lemon leaves
& apple blossoms."
-Abdul Wahab Al-Bayati,
Love Under The Rain, IX

xi.
The rain
in Dublin
makes me
think of
your wet hair
shining in
the doorway.

xii.
I get up early
to start the coffee.
You wake to
the sound of
water boiling.
When I appear
I bring morning
on my lips.

xiii.
Please draw
while I watch
in awe.
Please draw
as ice thaws
in my scotch.
Please draw
while I watch.

xiv.
I'll remove
the paper

butterflies
from your

ears as
you fall

asleep on
the couch,

little dove
in her nest.

xv.
I poach two eggs
for your breakfast,
with quince
& pear. The sun
journeys to us
from yesterday.
The cat's in the
window and
coffee steeps.
Perhaps this
is what lives
are made of.

xvi.
The image
of the nape
of your neck
as you watch
a movie late
on a cold night
full of snow thick
as dough, licked
with wind -
it's irresistible.

xvii.
We're in the
Rothko room at
the National Gallery,
translating white
square, blue band,
yellow over yellow,
black into black.
We move a little
closer together
as the canvases
mirror our
yearning.

xviii.
I read about
old Sumerian
gods, like
Inanna.
She could
never survive
in a world
where you
walk the earth.

xix.
Doing yoga in a
cement chamber
under the city,
muscles shaking.
Grateful for you
amid the ghosts
of streetcars.

**.
We bury time
in a plastic
sarcophagus
right in the
front yard,
casual as
a yam.

xxi.
Ulysses
and you,
the cork
and bottle.

"And then he asked
me would I yes."

xxii.
The smoke
cures the
whiskey.

The whiskey
spills
like tide.

The tongue's
tide seeks
your ear.

The ear
hunts
your thought.

The thought
wafts
like smoke.

xxiii.
Blood peel,
ginger
cumulus,
pink air
like chiffon,
a gloaming
song.

xxiv.
Swans mate
for life.
This wait
is a knife.
Dull rain
over K.
In my veins,
your sleighs.

xxv.
Silver thread
knotted cloud -
the moon's
broadcasting
through the
cindered air.
Your raw sienna
eye captures mine,
& in one moment
the entire night
is abandoned
to your arms.

xxvi.
The twilight
is imperial,
spreading
over that
moment
between
our past
& our future.

xxvii.
I still see you,
brush in hand,
red curving.
You seduced
with every line.

xxviii.
You breathe
life into my
world: the
field of wild
mint, the owls
in the cemetery,
the silver slash
of streetlamp,
the cream Impala.
Everything I see
is filled with us.

xxix.
You're the beat
within my chest.
I feel complete,
you're the beat
throbbing sweet
& I'm blessed -
you're the beat
within my chest.