May 13, 2009
By , Fresh Meadows, NY
Ten shots of Jose Cuervo
White worm wriggling on your palm.
Take a hit,
watch the seconds fade.

Distorted gaze.

Purple haze, playing with your mind
Mind you, this isn’t the first time
Nor will it be the last.

I see you here every night
like a reoccurring nightmare.
I loved you once
a lifetime ago.
You still haunt me
like the stench of booze
that haunts this place -
some private smoke filled room,
that karaoke dump,
corner of Northern Boulevard.
Social climber.
Your new best friend
necking some chick
like there’s no tomorrow,
because there isn’t.
Everything is habitual.

Let’s play a game,
You run, I hide
and watch you destroy yourself.
Let’s make pretend,
Since you tend to forget
who you were when we first met.

I see you behind screens
With loveless people, empty smiles,
Hazy rooms with deaf music
and ten shots at being someone.

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