The bar is a rubber band stretched to its limits with flat beer & watered whiskey as the ashtray brims with choke that I’ve smoked while thinking & drinking & trying not to rhyme with words that fall like hammer on hand between nails of a pensive day bearing the stoic exterior of an after-hours drinker & seeing the world through beer-bottle eyes not sure whether to live or to lie because sober words require countless drafts to dilate time while thinking & drinking & rhyming all the time
It’s amazing how booze makes you feel like you’re Lord Byron, but the next morning you read it back to yourself and it someone never seems as good as it did the night before…
A Speculative Poetry Blog 
It’s amazing how booze makes you feel like you’re Lord Byron, but the next morning you read it back to yourself and it someone never seems as good as it did the night before…
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Booze can be just plain magical… in all the wrong ways.
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