I'm Gonna Be Honest With Ya...
Soundtrack: "The Tourist" by Radiohead

Right. So I've had some to drink. Specifically, some nasty cheapo blended Scotch and some Bushmills. So I could write something, but it would most likely be something that would make a porn star blush in shame. Which is why I call this "My Mind Is Dangerous". It's too bad you can't see my keystrokes because my spelling errors are atrocious.

Anyway, in lieu of writing a poem, I'm going to post one of my friends' poems. Because he rocks. And this poem is about a subject close to my heart. This toast is to you, J.P.

i am drunk, reciting poems in the air.

the alochol is deep in my bloodstream,
fighting the tactful cells still lodged in my tongue!

they say, "keep spouting your heart, dear drunk one,
let your lungs empty with the razors you intend to throw at the world!"

i pause, instead finding myselfishself reading my own poetry,
sipping the last of the Jager from a freezer-chilled bottle; and I pause and think of you.

this is the last poem, i quietly think, in which I can think of you out loud,
your beautiful legs sliding over the verses, your tongue licking the metaphors.

but sweet God, your mouth!, the sweetness you held within, glowing like
so much of a sun, bleeding all the shadows around my heart dead and still.

i retire, back into my bed, comforted by the silence that 2 a.m. affords,
still dreaming of your laugh, your lips, your tongue, your taste;

and the future that I pray so tirelessly for.