As yet untitled

God, you know I really barely ever write when I'm drunk. Oh well, here goes.



Baby, I wanna kiss you and
roll around on your floor
whisky-drunk

I wanna rip your name out of the
phone book and walk across
your chest

I wanna walk uneasy when you're
in the room and shiver a little
when you speak

I wanna scream at you while I'm all
wrinkled up and strung out
and say sorry in the morning

I wanna be the one that
smiles when you walk in the door and
cries when you leave

But you just wanna whisper
half-hearted, quarter-hearted sweet nothings
into my hair

You just wanna feel the
smooth, the silicone and fake
artificial love