I’m drinking again

And all I can think of is her

          It’s cold outside

          And the warm melted cheese of my quesadilla

                   Embraces the foamy amber

I keep talking about the time I fell in love

And even though I know my friend is tired of me talking about her

          Fuck him

          I don’t care

I get poetical when I’m drunk,

          I dream of my waitress giving me blowjobs,

                   In that perfect way, she used to

The way she would roll her tongue and sometimes use the sharpness of her teeth…

Nothing like the threat of castration

To get harder

She pulled me closer, and I told her my chemicals were for her

Only her

And her skin was meant for me to puncture

And draw monuments to

The way I used the red pen

No one else will know how to

I…