Zoetic

I have wiped the slate clean;
a lie,
every single time.
Another friendly tale I tell myself,
good enough to sleep on.

I hear her
voice
saying this
is old shit
and her song looks like
a girl
I knew but don't remember.

She's
shaking
her head-

hooking
her hips-
and they're eating cake

while I try a new
prose,
moistening
my lips.

Reptilian waters make me
come alive
so while the sky rolls in,
pour me a gin.

Test my temperament,

just drink with me
tonight.

Carry On Tuesday