Pour me another drink
Let time just slip away
I just don't want to think
At least not in this way
How many shots will it take
To quiet these thoughts of mine
How many drinks to make
Till I feel like I'm fine
The bottom of the bottle
Is where I want to be
I'm no friend of Aristotle
I don't even know me
Yet here I am once again
Letting the spirits fall
If gluttony were my only sin
Then these drinks would be small
Instead I'm drowned in my own stupor
This emptiness is high proof
The thoughts are quiet and fewer
Now I'm just a spoof
About the Creator
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Push
You push me away as if I'm on a swing and you expect me to come crawling back. You pluck at my heartstrings as if I were a violin, so that you can hear that sad soundtrack. You miss me and then hate me, discard me, and then need me. You feel me, you see me, you hear me, and then leave me. You toy with my thoughts like tumbling blocks. Scatter them around inside your toybox. You use hushed words and silenced whispers to weave the web that everyone remembers. So that when I come forth into the light, it appears that I am the one who caused this blight. So push away at all my buttons, knowing I have nowhere to run. You push and you push and you push until your plaything is done.
By Christopher Foster4 years ago in Poets
How, Too
Many people wonder how, too. You are not alone, and I am an expert. I will teach you how, too! First, you need to remit a small application fee and fill out an application describing the nature of your financial situation and how often payments will be made, as this will have great bearing on how well I teach you how, too.
By Harper Lewis5 days ago in Fiction
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