By Hope Garthwait
last night we wore velvet dresses
and used the whole can of hairspray
shots & jager bombs washed over our black lipstick
i scratched our drunken words into my notebook
sentences & ideas half finished half forgotten
vague memories i try to stitch together
i haven’t slept yet or stopped drinking
what did i say in that call?
my newports are wet and i’m unsure of how i ended up in the grass
i always had bad luck with watermelon four lokos
what has my poor judgement done this time?
you might assume i’m an addict – risking it all to get drunk
but an addict will sell their soul for a gin & tonic
even if served with divorce papers & an eviction notice
the addict drinks to drown the real world
i drink to drown my conscience – act on impulse
sober mind leaves me pondering for hours
wondering what’ll happen or how they’ll react
if i ask for a cup of water
i’ll take up every offer call me ‘alice in drunkenland’
the bottle yells ‘drink me ’til you tell the truth’
12:12AM “2 drinks and i told you i’m a goth queen”
1:25AM “2 more drinks 3 shots i’ve said i love you countless times”
2:04AM “a few more shots i’ve lost count, please stop crying”
3:47AM “i can’t remember what happened 20 minutes ago”
at some point our clothes came off but we aren’t sure why
for awhile i kept my boots on; i’d wondered what i was tripping over
i buttoned a flannel and sat in a field while they slept
everything was so blurry & i wished the memories stayed
but in the sun they dissipate
in the sober light of morning
goth queen has gone to heroin rock bottom
apologies for forgotten words and talking too much
but why didn’t they just yell pineapples?
or did i just forget?
that an addict will sell their soul for a gin & tonic
i have nothing to sell when i have no soul
but yes i’ll take a drink; dead girls can’t say no
You can find Hope Garthwait on twitter.
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