put the shotglass down

by, Cassandra

Head to the wall,
breathe in deep,
hold it in, exhale.

Hope to god
this turns
out okay.

Forget the world
for one split second.
Your hands start to
shake, shake, shake.

Isn't it everything
you ever dreamed
it would be?

Fingers in your hair,
on your cheek,
against your waist.

You twist and turn,
feel the heat, and
move your feet to
the beat.

It all starts to fade,
and everything
tastes the same.

The dirt stains the floor,
stains your toes,
stains the soul.

And once more,
the cycle spins
out of control.

Head to the wall,
breathe in deep,
hold it in, exhale.

Hope to god
this turns
out okay.