Drunk
I’ll call you whiskey. For reasons you know why. The feeling that came along with you felt like whiskey. Very very smooth. Very. Almost too smooth. As soon as I decided to take a sip, I could feel you enter my body taking over my mind and actions. Oh whiskey. You could do it every time too if I let you hu? Just one sip is all I needed to be hooked. One sip is all I needed to feel the internal stampede. Everything crushing my good judgement, morals, running away from what I know to be right headed in the wrong direction. But it all seemed right. In the moment. Because in the moment you were so put together so poise. Or maybe you’re a mess. Just like me. Because whiskey had to make some sacrifices before stepping to me. But two wrong don’t make a right. Although two negatives do make a positive. Maybe we should test that theory. I’ll be the one hurt from it. You’re protected. You’re ok. You whiskey have nothing to worry about.













