Thursday, July 31, 2003

One more poem
Jose Cuervo Especial was once a favorite drink of mine. I would down sixteen shots in a party and still be able to commute the long trip home.

But I did have my bad days.

And in one occasion, I was so mashed that I couldn't even stand upright and shuffle to the bed. My friends had to strip me naked, give me a bath and toss me into my bed in my boxers.

Ah, the perils of drinking.
And life.


Cuervo captures the intricacies of my life
In three words.

He spoke to me
Sensuous salted songs
That set me thristing for more of lips.

Then had me swallow
Bedlam bittered bullshit
Of how, what and why I'm not good enough for him.

My life sucks.

And the sour tang remains in my mouth

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