Exposing all the stuff I'm just not calculating enough to hide.
1 Martini, 4 Beers, and 3 months later I'm restlessly watching hopeful egos on stage bellyache over the daily dues they've waged along the aesthetics of a skeletal girl clad in a guitar & fifteen minutes of neon light and makeup while I lean back in a bar stool at the rear of an eleventh hour bar encircled by boys that give me that look and tell me I shouldn't smoke and ask me why I'm suddenly so sad and quiet [and still thinking of her.]
Hi my name is Jenn or Jennifer, I never can settle on which.
And I'm an alcoholic.
I couldn't really explain why, but I know part of it is maybe cause
it draws me in closer to the matter of my own heart, even if it is those swollen parts that just remind me of a wish for belonging to the things I never could quite come home to.
Hi my name is Jenn or Jennifer, I never can settle on which.
And I'm an alcoholic.
I couldn't really explain why, but I know part of it is maybe cause
it draws me in closer to the matter of my own heart, even if it is those swollen parts that just remind me of a wish for belonging to the things I never could quite come home to.