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I’m drowning sorrows in a whiskey week.

Pills aren’t my thing so I sit back and sip while sucking on some weed.

Until I feel the weekend on my face.

With two days hanging free, taxed five off of a calendar space.

The city waits for no man.

She exists on a separate thread then the one used on your pant leg.

The lady only plays rough.

Ain’t no saliva here, no kisses, just a long dry fuck.

You’re standing strong, dick in your hand.

Wet dreams for sheets, forget about the promised land.

Forget the streets just come inside.

And blaze up and let’s chill as we reminisce.

Bout the days I’m rocking pens to sleep.

With note pads sprawled out, looking like the paintings mauled by city kicks.

They may be struggling to find what I mean.

But all that means to me is that they’re too stupid to see the meaning that I really mean.

So I sit here and I bide my time.

And I’m crying ink, hoping all the words come out into a rhyme.

So I bid the city goodnight.

Just tip your hats to the gentleman and don’t forget to turn off the lights.


*Featured Art – The oil on canvas painting is called, ‘WHISKEY AT LAS BRUJAS‘, by Fabian Perez. For more of his amazing art visit his website,