don’t start with me.

oh my god.
when you head starts bobbing
like the ripples on water
and you count how many
glasses it takes to ride
the wine into the divine –
you think yourself a lady with charming curls
but others stick their dirty noses up,
thinking you’ve cast your pearls before swine
well, i’ll pour out my glass and
draw a sloppy, wet line –
don’t fucking slip in it with your
insecurities and doubt
and most of all, don’t fall into
your assumptions of what you think
i’m all about – because without a doubt
i, in the deepest shit-faced wishing well
filled with alcohol and dreams –
both granted and unfulfilled,
will still be deeper than the
shallowest of your deepest
philosophies about all things
you think are “real”


One comment on “don’t start with me.”
  1. ruminatingmuses says:



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