You lied to God today in whiskey metaphors
That was my confession
My intoxicated confession to the worm
that slept silently at the bottom of the bottle
I was never strong enough to devour him
But my tequila tongue told truthful tales
That any villain would love to steal
Did you threaten him with a tequila comfort
You laughed and apologized in the same breath
and yet I crave for you to tell it again
so you repeat words that bellow from my heart
and wrap me in a melody of horrific tunes
songs scribbled by my own hand
the words tighten around my throat and choke me to tears
Why must I endure this heartache
from a mouth that enjoys sucking out my emotions
leaving me lifeless and what for
plagiarism?
You were an abstract artist

I caught you finger painting outside my door
you smirked and said
the bleeding hearts of poets make the best paint.
And their melancholy, the best thinner.


But why does this tequila comfort not last
beyond the bottles acquisition?
When my velvet words pierce through deaf ears
and release the irony of my hero’s death.
And when I fall why is it
My drunken metaphors that always break my fall?

You lied to God today in whiskey metaphors.
That was my confession.
My psychedelic addiction to the bottle
Of last years rum.
The one that drowns my fear
In shots of the devils bile.
And again you laughed and apologized in the same breath,
Murmuring lullabies of my salvation that lies at the bottom of this bottle.
Killing me slowly with my own ivory tears as I chug
The life out of this whiskey.
Sucking truth out from its alcohol
The only thing that these shattered mirrors can replace.