i hear not watch
the bottle tip back
tequilla slips down
their throats.
a hurricane is forming
in the basement
of my families home.
swirling twirling
with the thoughts of
past boy friends
toast to the evening ahead
to the evening of laughter
fuelled stories that bleed
into the early hours of
the morning where hair
will be pulled back for
work in an hour
and to avoid the vomit
that trails from the side
of her mouth.
the hurricane of tequilla
made her text him back
made her take him back.
i heard the yells.
the tribal screams that fill
the stale air of the basement.
if i too drink this liquid
shall it bring you back
with a shot glass in
hand i hold a bottle
found on top of the fridge
like a throttle ready to see
if i can see you in
the toliet bowl ridges.
if your name will appear
in my contact list
once again.
i too tonight drank
up from the tequilla hurrinace.
the vile taste lit my throat on fire
feeling alive in the moment
i texted the person who i wished
to be at the top
of my phones contact list.
the name
the name was not yours.
in my druken state
i had connected dots.
dots that draw a line to a happy face.
the face did not belong
to you or your name.
these times i actually smile
when i see the name respond
back to mine.
cheers to hurricane tequilla.
at least i wont feel the after math
of you until the morning light.
12:25 pm
ESTÁS LEYENDO
altercation of self-actualization《poetry
Poesíaal•ter•ca•tion noun 1. a noisy argument or disagreement espically in public self-ac•tu•al•i•za•tion noun 1. the realization or fulfilment of ones talents and potentialities, espically conisdered as a drive or need present in everyone
