"smirnoff" poems
Dreaming of you keeps me awake.
And I find myself here in the same place everyday,
trying to write out the way my heart skips a beat every time you even look at me but
I know it's never gonna be anything other than what it is right now,
me drinking ***** until I can't see your face burned into the back of my eyelids and pass out every other weekend.
And maybe I'm fine with it.
Maybe the way your smile makes me forget everything I've ever known about myself, and love, and breathing is enough.
But it's in the way my hands shake when I even think of you looking at someone else the way I do you that I know I can't do this forever.
And maybe I'll drink that away too.
Feb 14, 2017
Feb 14, 2017 at 12:15 AM UTC
Before-
“Run! Come on their gonna catch us!”
We really messed up this time.
Whose idea was it to smash
the mailboxes? Deface the school
parking lot? Jesus Ch-
“Is that mom’s car?”
JESUS CHR-
“Nevermind.”
After-
“Three for seventy or five for seventy-five. Best deal in town.”
We really messed up this time.
Who forgot the lighter and
and cash? Where’s the hell
are the papers? What the f-
“Are these sugar?”
WHAT THE FU-
“Nevermind.”
Before-
“Shut up! He’s gonna see us!”
We really messed up this time.
Who thought throwing popcorn
at the cute movie theater boy
was a good idea” Oh sh-
“He’s looking over here!”
OH SHI-
“Nevermind.”
After-
***** tastes better straight.”
We really messed up this time.
Who bought Smirnoff? We
wanted UV. Where are the
shot glasses? Son of a-
“I think this stuff is expired…”
SON OF A B-
“Nevermind.”
Before-
“We had a test?!”
I really messed up this time.
When did we even take notes?
I don't remember the what
we even went over. God da-
“Yeah, he said its worth 20% of our grade.”
GOD DAM-
“Nevermind.”
After-
“What is going on?!”
We really messed up this time.
The room smells like substance.
Curtains closed- eyes closed.
Broken orange bottles- Bu-
“He took too many!”
Burn-
“He’s not waking up!”
Burno-
“Call someone!”
BURNOUT.
“Nevermind?”
Before-
“This is the best day of my life.”
We are okay this time.
Feb 27, 2018
Feb 27, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
We were fifteen
Writing stories in our skin with long nails and steak knives
Girls in my friend group would starve themselves for fun
My girlfriend used to tell me that she overdosed
Just to see how I would react
Sometimes I’m surprised we’re all still living
Maybe not alive but not dead either
I still spend most of my nights crying
Growing up is funny like that
At twenty I question how any of us made it through highschool
My old friends survive off of little pink pills and Smirnoff
You could drink ***** out of their collar bones
I can see the sadness in their bones, visible through translucent skin
How were we better off at fifteen
I still can’t smell blood without wanting to throw up
Jagged skin makes me nostalgic for a love I never should’ve had
Whenever I see a tombstone I think of him
At seventeen a teacher asked what I wanted to be
How badly I wanted to say happy
I never imagined I’d make it past eighteen
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 7:29 PM UTC
******* on my teeth and clicking my heels
I drink Smirnoff out of a coffee mug
The one with “I love my Grandma” stamped across the front
It’s Tuesday night
and I want nothing more
than to feel all right
College is ****
My classmates, conservative ****** bags with too much to say
So **** the weekend, let’s party now
Get hammered and show up to class still buzzing
Let’s call up our ex’s and show them how dysfunctional we truly are
Get naked and finger paint
Maybe even watch Fight Club
Hell, I don’t care
I’m just trying to make sense
So what if the Earth revolves around the Sun
Tonight
I just want the world to revolve around us
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 9:55 PM UTC
i know i told everyone i hated you, but oh, baby
alcohol will not fill the hole i left.
you can pour as much ***** down your throat as you want but if it tasted like my name after two shots, it will still taste like my name after twelve.
oh, baby
alcohol, contrary to popular belief, is not a truth serum.
it will not cure your compulsive lying, it will not provide you with a newfound empathy for others.
liquor is not a cure, it does not make you better, it makes you worse.
oh, baby
alcohol does not make you forget.
four days after i found out about you and her and all the lies, you sent me 80 drunk texts begging me to return to your abusive relationship. do not tell me that alcohol makes you forget.
i've never drunk texted you but it only takes my drunk self 15 minutes at a party to find a boy to fill your role for the night. seven shots later and i'm holding this boys hand and he's holding me up - i did not forget that he was not you, i merely remembered that i was alone.
alcohol does not make you forget.
oh, baby
alcohol will not help your grades.
i heard that your new study partner is named smirnoff, i know textbooks don't have blonde hair and soft lips but i promise they would make a better replacement than that bottle.
oh, baby
alcohol will not make you nicer.
drunk texting me that this is all my fault for being so jealous is not endearing. calling her a ***** is not endearing. falling over is not endearing.
baby, alcohol will not make people like you more.
oh, baby
i know that you are carrying some baggage but alcohol will not make them lighter, alcohol will not make them more colorful, alcohol will not make them more valuable.
it will not help, it is not appealing, ***** breath is not a cool accessory.
i am never coming back, but the boy i fell in love with is inside of you somewhere and he does not deserve to be treated like this.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
the markerboard on the fridge read:
sleep tonight.
the only thing i promised myself i'd do.
the day went something like this:
i woke up thirty minutes late,
i made do with only washing my hair,
ate an apple, yogurt, drank a cup,
****** myself to clear my head,
ignored the neighbor as i stepped out the door.
went to a dead-end, data-entry job,
where the girls aren't pretty, nobody is funny,
because everybody is a CPA and i'm not pleasant because i
don't give a good ******* about the
world of finance.
the highlight of the workday (as it is everyday),
was the break room chatter during lunch.
the earth-shattering conversations
revolved around:
*how good the nutrisystem desserts taste,
how there was low voter-turnout in the midterm,
and how that one girl is a lesbian*.
i got off work,
ate a sandwich, a banana,
put on sweatpants and a thrift store t-shirt.
i wrapped some fitness contraption around
my belly, whose sole purpose is to make
my abdomen sweat profusely.
no pretty girls at the fitness center.
i got back to my apartment.
wrote some phony poetry full
of half-baked sentiment
for no worthwhile reason.
i smoked.
i watched a foreign film, but couldn't find my glasses.
meaning: *i have no ******* clue what the plot was about*.
i went to the gas station.
made small talk with the long haired indian man.
i bought two smirnoff 40s.
something about smirnoff gives me really cohesive dreams.
my roommate tried to give me a lecture.
i told him christ was a myth.
a simple summation of earlier religious figures.
slammed the door,
lit some incense called *****
i fell asleep, woke up an hour later in a fright.
turned on the fan,
lit some more *****
closed my eyes,
and dreamt a complex novel,
containing:
*me missing church,
my mom calling me,
getting lost in canada,
finding my way back to
my hometown only to find
two dudes with heavy machine guns
killing everyone in the cozy, local shops,
then somehow i got a line in a movie
directed by none other than keanu reeves*.
at least i finally got some sleep.
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 6:21 PM UTC
Your name is like champagne
Bubbly crisp refreshing
Your body is like red wine
Cabernet.. a few more glasses closer to numbing my pain
Your voice is like brandy
Cognac... a few more sips to settle in an alternate universe
Your kiss is like Tennessee honey
Whiskey.. a few more shots to keep the branch of thorns tight around my frail heart
Your soul is like smirnoff
***** wild and ice cold
You are exotic eccentric exciting
And I am nothing more than a cheap beer from a ****** bar.. hanging from a chain tied to your rist... along for the wrong ride
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 4:23 AM UTC
They scoot together slowly
Body language lubricated by *****
They are still awkward...
He tries to win favors with alcohol
And laughter.
She just goes along with it
Happy for attention
And free drinks.
An interesting courtship
Monitored by Pastor Smirnoff.
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 7:29 AM UTC
We met outside of a dingy doorframe
of a hotel room and automatically blurted out
introductions at the same time,
pinking our cheeks and
slowing
us
down.
The way you breathed out your name
as if it was the lingering smoke
from the last drag of your cigarette
captured my attention and
kept me hungry
for more.
Three days passed
and we were caught wrapped
in the white sheets of Room 243,
whispering compliments of the craft
of my soft lips on your bare skin
in between green apple
Smirnoff-soaked kisses.
You didn’t mind
when I desperately needed to find
my best friend wrapped in the arms
of a half-naked frat boy
by the bonfire flames,
just to tell her she was
the best friend I have ever had.
I didn’t mind when we ran
through the hotel hallways
to find your best friend
on the brink of arrest,
barefoot and broke,
giving the shuttle drivers a hard time.
We said goodbye outside the dented door
of the shuttle we coincidentally took
together the morning after,
leaving behind our two a.m. talks
of improvisations and dances
to stupid songs by the DJ
in the other world that is
Lake Havasu.
May 5, 2014 4:17:28 PM
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
I'll softly sip my grape soda
Accompanied by a Smirnoff friend
I will let the fire trickle down my esophagus
Maybe tonight I'll mend bonds I've broken
Numbly message each old lover
With uncoordinated hands
And explain my sudden yearning
Where my feelings might still try to stand
Or maybe I will cut myself up tonight
From my shoulders to my toes
Let all the stress spill out
All my anxiety and all my woes
Kinda feel like dancing tonight
Just alone in my room with the lights out
Of course mentioning I'm alone
Is nearly pointless, there should be no doubt
I might do a lot of things
Maybe is a strong word
All I know is right now
Being sober is absurd
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
every breath tastes
rancid on my tongue;
fun fact, if all you eat is
raspberry yogurt and
hypersaturated strawberries,
your ***** looks like
Jackson ******* plus
Picasso's Rose Period.
has anyone ever told you
that drunk texting you is like
standing in front of a Caravaggio;
it's dusky and dark and sensuous and I
******* adore getting lost in
translation. Cezanne draws solely in
molecular geometry, tetrahedral,
trigonal pyramidal, octahedrons
scrawled across the canvas and doused
in living color. Thursday night already
seems so intangible,
a bad dream that didn't dice up my liver
like a ******* sous chef. Thursdays
have come and gone, the weekends
ever-beckoning, and the scent of Smirnoff
stays in my sinuses.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 10:46 AM UTC
Last sunday, we go videoke.
Kaming unom, grabe'g panganta.
Naay nice ug tingog, naay okay ra,
naay wala gyud sa tono, naay nag sabay-sabay ra,
ug naay feeler gyud kaayo nga singer siya.
Niabot ang time, naka feel na mig uhaw.
Ni offer ang isa, isa ka bucket ambot ug unsa.
TOK TOK TOK ayay naa na ang gihulat,
tambal sa uhaw gipatong sa lamesa.
PAK! SMIRNOFF ANG GIDALA!
Kami nagpadayon ug kanta,
kachada sa pamati, sa ilimnong ma'lami.
Niabot ang last nga kanta,
Obladi, Oblada, tala na mamauli na ta.
Nihapit's balutan, mao na po'y gitirada.
Nanglingkod kadjot sa seawall,
nagpahangin gamay usa musakay.
Nipara mig cab kay hapit na alas dose,
sa rural basin mabiyaan mi.
Wa na gibyaan gyud, maygani naay super 5, pero tag 50 gyud.
Kami naabot sa tagsa-tagsang panimalay,
wow kalami sa akuang katulog bai.
Pagmata nako, nganong init kaayo ko?
Wa ko kasabot sa akuang gibati, gitugnaw ko pag ayo.
Yati, ngano man ni? Nag inom man unta kog vitamin C.
Pagka uran2 naa koy gi share sa fb,
nag react akuang miga kay sgalain pud daw iya ginhawa.
Taod-taod nag my day ang isa, gi dextrose kay gihilantan sab siya.
Nag text kos isa pa, kung ga daot pud siya.
"OO" mao na iyang reply,
*** why kami gyud upat dai?
Ang isa silingan ra namo, wala may gibati.
So, isa nalang kulang, akua gitawagan.
Wala mitubag, akuang manghod iyang gi chatan.
"Yes dai gihilantan pud siya", mao nay reply.
Wala nay lain, ang SMIRNOFF mao jud akuang pasanginlan!
Kaming lima baling yarok, sa smirnoff nga mabugnaw.
Ang isa wala nag mind kay nagsaad di gyud siya mo inom.
Mao toy amuang gidangatan, gipang ubo, sip'on ug gihilantan.
Grabe, unsay naa adtong smirnoff nila?
Ngano kaming lima ang naapektohan?
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
I had always frowned upon the thought of being drunk
But my God, I hated being sober
****** smirnoff was the key to falling asleep in the arms of my lover
The bitter taste of alcohol made me forget about you
I never knew the downers in alcohol could make so many memories
I was sloppy drunk with my friends laughing until the sun came up
And no I didnt want it to end
I couldn't find which direction I was supposed to go
And I didnt care
I just wanted to catch the sunrise in his beautiful eyes
And the joy in the laughter of my friends
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
I wonder if that watered down ***** drowns out the taste of your daughter's empty "I love you's"
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Now he's got a drinking problem,
He's steered off course.
He's heading to the bottom
on a Smirnoff course.
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
The first one hurts the longest.
The second one hurts the hardest.
And the third one doesn't hurt at all.
He's your fifth 4am ***** shot
your beer pong binger
your 6am hook up,
numbing every nerve in your entire body
and it feels the best but ends up the worst at 5am
when he's holding your hair over the toilet
and singing you to sleep
when he's lacing his fingers through your hair
and your waist
and your hands
and through the tiny fractured crevices
between your injured heart.
The third is the tallest climb
the longest fall
the most honest hour
the pounding hangover and
the beaten emotions you never even knew you kept pent up
until he's slipping his tongue through your mouth
and you're pulling his bottom lip to pull him closer
to let him take whatever is even left of you.
The third is your weakness
because he will catch your heart when it's still on your sleeve,
tattered and stained from the ***** you threw up
as easily as the words that got him to hold you like he used to.
The third will whisper
the third will listen
the third will taste like the butterflies you thought you poisoned.
But the third is definitely a charm.
gd
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
even at only fourteen years old,
I would finish bottles to myself
the amount wouldn't fit on a shelf
I got too drunk, to be bold
I thought my friend might help
but the last thing I remember
is being led into a chamber
by the opposite gender
I tried to rip my hand away
it didn't phase him
he pushes me on the bed
and then everything goes black
I wake up with puke in my hair
I was alone and bare
I was hurting
it was burning
my stomach turning
he gives me a warning
last night was fun
I had bruises
I want to run
out of my body
I shower until my whole body is ******
but five years later and I do not feel clean
everyone there had seen
what he did to me
not one single word was spoken about it
they let it be
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC
I'm too poor for the alcohol + it's too late. Getting drunk to fill the empty feeling seems like a pipe dream. You came and I felt lonelier with you here. I still feel lonelier with you gone. I'm filling my window sill with bottles, to see how much damage I cause alone.
1 - Copa De Oro
1 - Kamora
1 - Smirnoff
1 - Espolon
1 - Can of Pabst Blue Ribbon
I'm not selfish, but still heartbroken and wishing you were mine.
I have to rationalize this in the future too.
I have to remember that a mistake is not an accident; it is calculated and weighted. I can't let them convince me a choice is a slip of the tongue. Might steal my room mate's beer, might buy my own, and who the **** knows?
All this skin to save my heart, and I'm still made of glass.
Trying to get some type of high like everyone else.
Trying to waste health like everyone.
Wasting youth.
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 9:35 PM UTC
i find it bewildering
how western society
****** all the fat out
of certain edible products,
like yoghurt,
and by draining off
the fat replaced it with
excess sugar,
to then suddenly announce
that alcohol was a sugar,
what the ****
alcohol (EtOH - Et is a
chemical shortening of
the micro-carbohydrate chain
derived from ethane CH3-CH3 -
ethanol) is the single most perfect
calorie unit, even if impure due
to dilution: a standard bottle
of smirnoff ***** has a rubric:
50ml parallels 50kcal;
i don't know where journalists
got the idea that alcohol is
in the sugar category - minding the fact
that i don't use alcohol as a recreational
party dumbing drug (liquid ketamine),
instead using it for its medicinal qualities
of sedation - i find arguments concerning
it a bit of a red herring / far fetched -
i hate drinking with people, i drink on my own,
i find myself very conversational
albeit slurring my speech after a drink
with a library on my hunchback,
but if the conversation turns sour
and no one's laughing with me
i sober up and alcohol doesn't recognise
the soul, but becomes purely metabolic,
and that *****
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
Winter of 2003
I won't hang my head past February,
Or let the obstacles I face stamp my feet into a statistic.
You left me, 10 years old, with a baby that's hand coiled around my finger like a ring that was two sizes too small.
I would use sweat to lubricate his grip but,
He was to precious to remove, so I let him choke the circulation until it looked like your eye makeup before you left for "work".
Painful.
A 10 year old, with ten fingers, perfect to cook 10 chicken nuggets I got for $2.67.
He only had ten teeth but I only had 10 dollars that you earned from spending ounces of Smirnoff wasting away your body to the underground public.
Early Spring 2003
He calls me 'Mom' instead of 'Maddie'.
The bathtub in our apartment would always slump,
I would grip handfuls of his rolls to save him from drowning,
water leaked into the grout of the tile, drawing mold between the carpet causing our conversations to rot,
They were no longer sweet,
The expiration date was February 1st when you planned another baby.
Summer 2008
You kicked me out,
I spent each day with my feet scorching,
Barbecuing on the charcoal grill of Las Vegas streets.
I couch hopped from friend to friend,
sometimes slept in the rain gutter to stake out for the night.
I still knew your hours,
kept my journal close, dragged my guitar case behind me, occasionally stopped by the house to see him all grown up, only at 8 years old.
He would leave chicken nuggets on the front window sill, the dragging of my guitar case gave me away.
September 10th, 2011
You let me back into the house,
My little brother of 8 years old slept in my bed for 3 weeks straight.
1.4 million teens become runaways each year.
I won't let you stamp my feet into a statistic.
Runaway isn't my choice.
Fall 2014
Still standing.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
When I smell Old Spice it takes nose back
Think of being close to your skin
Was it your sweat as our pulses raced?
We were producing promises to win
Homemade pizza promptly devoured
Flour handprints on ****
Bedazzled jeans
Holes in both knees
Blond hair perfectly cut
I remember admiring freckles
Couldn't take your eyes off my smile
Inebriated night after night
Dreamed of walking the aisle
When tasting Smirnoff *****
Always think of our start
Hearing laughter in my mind
No matter how long we have been apart
Jul 1, 2024
Jul 1, 2024 at 1:00 AM UTC
She caught
you fair and
Square
The never____
((Singlehanded))
(Jingle Cock-pit landed)
The napkin
crossed legs
Married
her favorite drinks
((Uncrossed or divorced))
Bachelorette
Never drink
and ride her
Corvette
50 unlisted shades
green drinks
Spiked
Too envy_______*
Personality can win
One *** single
Emmy
So Cool and collected
He's so hot saturated
Her College Humor
Mom got ulcers
Such a bust of
tumors
Bring on the
Buzz Feed
Amazingly enough
Drinks are our
Drug need
Single she had ti
Married to regret it
Amaretto went
Solo
Card game
Played upon like the
City Ghetto
In your mouth
Smirnoff___Off the record
The turn-off
He tried to win her
Such Sweet nuts
The olives Italian
Hey Juice horse
Stallion
The
Gala Ha
Ha baba
Shrimp and sheep
Pretzels lime twist
This is NY
we never sleep
Dogs Yen of Yorkie
Liqueur lime
his crime
Gala Forgie
Quicker and
City slicker
One drink
to pick Fergie
Big Daiquiri
Hot stuff singer
Never a
solitaire game
He got stiff
Frangelico
Of the Pinnacle
The ***** Princess
Lost her dress
Playing Russian
Roulette
Magically Mike
Came all over
Collette imaginable
His drink was
the hottest rated
Never by one
Bad drink
Sip to your drinks
Gala party tricks
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 12:11 PM UTC
Bottles of alcohol squat on the counter, and cigarette butts
like yellow dead June bugs on the floor.
Bottles of shimmering reasons to not care about a hangover,
to leave prom early and rejoice in your parent’s absence.
Glistening necks, elegant glass nubs with no cap
tipped up into mouths screaming proud and hoarse,
We are STUPID! And CONTAGIOUS!
our ***** voices breaking under the radio sound
to a loud song whose generation no longer cares.
But we do, dumb boys and girls in a truck, rolling around town
like Haylee’s bottle of Jack Daniels in the trunk—
aimless, optimistic, and looking for reasons, so
buy a pack at the Chevron and let’s go smoke!
That’s enough, after all, isn’t it?
Reason enough to crack the windows, find a Carlyss backroad,
waste away midnight and half a tank of gas.
Still, as I drive on, a 90s rock station stimulating rotation of the spliff,
that smell puts my mind out of guitar solos and into placid hallways,
Smells Like a night in my dad’s apartment,
the stubbly couch with the nicotine blanket,
the Marlboro tone in the air, concrete crumbs and a lighter’s grating chrrt.
Divorce sounds like alcohol—
a word that burns, something sterilizing and for adults only.
But I don’t care, it’s my turn on the spliff,
and the backseat of my truck sounds more Alive
than the old horror movie rentals he would put on.
And why should I worry about what sobriety means
when we’ve been planning this night for months now?
All stocked up on Bacardi and Smirnoff Ice, Captain Morgan’s, Svedka, Mike’s Hard,
Swisher Sweets wrapped up in the **** bag—
We shoot our *** soldiers eager to start the war,
that war against a domestic unknown enemy,
an enemy dangerous and subversive, like sober-minded aspirations.
And while Zack rolls the blunt, while Jack finds his Camel pack,
while you ask for a hit of Haylee’s cigarette,
I fill a glass with water, my intention to hydrate
exactly as genuine as my intention to forget about it.
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC