red cap, empty bottle.

i don't need the glass anymore, the bottle will do. it's thicker that way.

i'm swaying in my seat and remembering that he won't call tonight.

ode to the liquor, toast to this alcohol, and tell me that i'm your best friend too, because i'm staring into your open mouth, this storytelling bottle. you're the only one who wants to participate in this particular conversation, and your effect is more substantial than i could hope to be. i'll take the floor. you sit beside me. i'll keep on talking, and at least, i know you're listening.

my toxic old friend, we're two goddamn peas in a pod. let's not mince words. it's honesty i'm after, and you've always been my favorite stickler for abuse.

there have been some lies floating around this day, but you bring out the worst in me which never fails to amuse my childish side. finally, i can count on someone to let me in.

staring at the ceiling for a while, wondering how you make it spin like that, let's take this trip down memory lane as seriously as we let ourselves. at least, i know you're listening behind that orange glare, behind that thick glass.

i'll hand you my demons, my baggage, my better off not knowing. take it inside, and slap it all around. bring it back out to me, shrouded and manipulated, but damn, you make it beautiful.