Real Grit



Pour me another one and let it drop down,

Just one more for the road, for my throat


If every drink was an answer,

I’d surely drink till I was better


I’d wallow in booze and shoulder you higher;

The weight of a girl and all her wires…


Lord, what I wouldn’t give for a shot and bar at which to shoot it down

Lord, what I wouldn’t give for a heart and a love to bleed myself out




Give me something to wash my mouth out;

I think I’m going south…no, I’m just going out


My arm, the blood, and the smearing

My neck, the air, and all that breathing


Just pour me another one and make it last;

Pour the burn all over my hands


Drunk me a dream that smells of gin

Drunk me a nap that tucks me in




I wish for more of the things I’ve missed:

To feel her come,


On the ground, against a wall, in a chilly bedroom—

But nothing lies there now except for an empty bottle…


Nothing worth a shit to anyone else around,

But maybe a drop is left at the bottom for me to tongue.


Lips to an opening, is now me

                        Lips on a wound, is now you.


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