Sometimes I wish to pick you up
Chuck you
And slam your vessel down
It’s comforting
how the sound is reminiscing
Feeling the burn
And the upside down turn
Of my face
From
When you finally hit
My stomach base
The splash on my throat
Is so strong
But it’ll dissipate
I’ll just have to wait
By now I’m six shots in
With a goal that’s ten
I’ll score to fifteen
Hearing
Broken screams
of how
I should worry of my spleen
And then I wake up on the floor
Momentarily
Stumbling to make it to the door
Finding myself
Consistently
Checking around for more
Because
I feel that
I still need it
Searching for a fix
To suppress
is my niche
Because
I still fiend it
Tried to say no
But
I know I don’t mean it
But I’m
trying to let it go
Because
I know
I don’t need it
(2018)
The AwkweirdSole. 