drunken poetry

if giraffes have noses
and cows have tails,
why don’t we, as human
being bodies, have the ability
to fly?
that doesn’t make much
sense, but neither do i
when i’ve been drinking
milk. just something about
cream in my mouth
makes my words
sound dirty.
and then, shit,
the weirdest possible
artist just came on
my mp3 player
(regina, regina, regina-a –
spektor, that is), so now
my mind is extra boggled
and riddled with fucking
holes (not for actual
fucking, mind you,
though i do have doors
in my house for that –
fucking doors.
what a great concept.)
of alcoholic magnitude.
mike doughty’s now
singing about mixed
drinks and although
i’m totally not sober
right now, i’m just
glad i wasn’t drinking
those velvet crushes tonight.

A/N: Actually was kinda in the drunken stage when I wrote this last night. More poetry to come tomorrow.