Bartender

Poison?

What you wish for when you're sober, you act-out when drunk. (Greek Proverb)

You meet some pretty interesting people at a bar counter. Hell, you meet interesting people everywhere, but there's just something about a bar that seems so typical. So classic, yet so cliché. Whether it's a rustic or nightclub bar. The typical "what's your poison?" It's almost an aesthetic, a disgusting and beautiful aesthetic.

Alcohol, sweat, tears, and laughter. Noise and silence. It all depends on the night. Some drink to numb the pain, unaware that they're making it worse, and others are painfully aware, despite all their anguish, they drink just to end it all. Some drink to celebrate, to express and release their true selves the only way alcohol can.

To say their hellos or goodbyes to others or themselves. Alcohol is like a truth serum, it doesn't make you an asshole it makes you human. Some people are grouped or pressured into it, but either way it's their own decision to down the damn shot.

    Sometimes they burn, sometimes they soothe, and sometimes you're just addicted. You want it, crave it, need it. You count them and eventually you can't even remember what the hell you were even doing, let alone what number you were on. Let go, forget, divulge in this bliss. This beautiful and disgusting bliss. Let it out, your animal, your primal desires. To scream, to sing, to dance, to fight, to laugh or to cry. Take it off. Let it out. Those feelings, sometimes you don't even need alcohol, sometimes you just need me.

Come to me, and I'll ask you, "What's your poison?" Let me taste this poison, let me taste you. The alcohol on your breath, the smell of smoke or fresh air on your clothes, let me into your mind. The taste of sweat on your skin, the burning fire in your veins, just let me. Talk to me. Tell me how to kill you slowly, or all at once. Just let me.

What's your poison? Mine is secrets. The secrets you try to hide, the ones that alcohol reveals. That's the reason I'm a bartender, after all.