in my experience
drunk isn't fun
it's not jokes and walking like an idiot
it's not heartfelt confessions
it's not laughter
I'll tell you what it is
it's screaming
it's your heart racing, on edge and shaking
it's dread of what their next move will be
it's masking fear so as not to aggravate the perpetrator
it's soft and slow movements
it's hiding in your bedroom,
wide awake with ears perked at 2am
an attempt to ensure your mother is alright in her attempt at defusing
it is a disease with symptoms of short tempered rage in its host
it is heartache
it is memories you wish to erase
it is a reminder of the evil in people
it is a bruise on childhoods
it is pain
