sober/drunk
  • LECTURAS 545
  • Votos 26
  • Partes 6
  • Hora <5 mins
  • LECTURAS 545
  • Votos 26
  • Partes 6
  • Hora <5 mins
Continúa, Has publicado may 18, 2016
S O M E D A Y S. 
    
     The thoughts are so bad, I don't even need the bottle for them to seep into my head. My teeth erupt into snow and crimson trying to stop them. They look like the old Japanese flag.
    
    S O M E D A Y S.  
    
     The thoughts only come when my bottom lip is suctioned to the ravishingly green mouth of the bottle. Stupid move on my part. Or maybe it isn't. The bottle kissed me first.
    
     On those days, the bottle and its friends do the job of my teeth. Much more effectively. 
    
     S O M E D A Y S. 
    
     Nothing happens.
    
     S O M E D A Y S.  
    
     Both happen. And the only option is to not have any options.
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Slide 1 of 10
My Poetry Stash cover
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[kodachrome] cover

My Poetry Stash

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