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Poem
My Liquor language, and bottle babble, is giving you and on slaw of curses an 
voodoo spells. The heat from lips that can singe the devil feet in 
hell.Contemplate; contemplate the real side of the flow of things.I paid my price, 
for you to let me be. I have so much to offer, there is so much to see from a far. 
We played all the games, and tossed off the dice. And now it’s to late you when 
again. A cancellation is to see the real you. The man has in juried my fantasy, 
made me see my feelings differently.I have to pretend to be loved. Show the 
world that I’m invincible. It’s far from thetruth.

My tears flood my tearing wheel, and cell phone .a picture perfect-damage 
visioning all red. I waited for you to show. Every car, I thought maybe… some how 
it never is. This is the same trick that is constantly being played on me? When 
will the lesson ever cease. Leave me be, I want your procrastinating clutches to 
release me.Your passion, and awkwardly glance sporadic feathered hands rinse 
in my sorrow. Being naive is a virtue, it always goes as plan. A painless position.
I sit here in my gloom and watch my expiration pass across your eyes .

Pressing my pressure , share a secret here and there, simplify or pacify. 
Borrowing my sight sometime. Not two but one, that can rescue my from the 
rubble of my solitude. Ok-ok I’m drunk! And need to rest my head on this steering 
wheel.But I tell you one thing… you better hope I keep misplacing my sanity on 
these random sheets. You don’t want to see me with a hang over. I fathom why  i 
continuously let you suck oxygen from my veins, and fill my head with phantom 
fantasies. Need my head examined…or … maybe I need to partake in some 
more of this liquor. And I need for you too leave me be! Don’t try to take my drink 
from me, I’m not that drunk you see.

Let me get what I need, somebody that wants to see me happy, for all the right 
reasons, when I’m starving for his presents, he will only be so overjoyed to 
oblige, with these new found liberties. Because my drunken spirit-man doesn’t 
tell any false tales, but I fear you do. It’s A-ok, cause I can’t feel the string from my 
distrust- so leave me be, don’t mess with my drink… let me get what’s coming to 
me. I know I’m not myself today. Plus you like the other person, that inner child, 
which never questions your motives. Well! That’s not really me. I faked it every 
time. It wasn’t much of a burden; it made you feel so much better.
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