He ripped the bottle from the top shelf
so the insides sloshed with velocity.
His stance teetered on the ledge.
His teeth ground into his teeth.
His feet ground into the ground.
He waited for the waves to come to shore
before pulling the cork with his mouth.
His eyes squinted at the horizon.
His thumb pressed into his finger.
His finger pressed into his thumb.
He swallowed the fermented fluid
in gulps that hit his stomach with complicity.
His throat clinched his throat.
His veins pumped into his veins.
His head began to swim across the air
so that it bent his neck and relieved his brain.
His strain released into the sea.
His pulse pounded into the earth.
His breath felt his breath.
He balanced himself carefully, on the top shelf.
Brand spankin' new! Started this one exactly 13 minutes ago... no idea why or where it came from... my prompt was the title... What's complicity to you @Forgewright and @Killerelite ... might be something like what's in this piece . Oh yeah baby... we're all perfect until we get home and get loaded! Which I intend to do... Forge, how do you work such long days without becoming an alcoholic? Sheesh!
Just gettin' started...
I really liked the feel of this poem. "Shit just ain't gettin done cause I need a drink," feel to it. "What an effin day, I need a belt," feel to it. "I don't care what you do I need a drink," feel to it. One I can relate to as of late. Your description of the act kind of put me in the mindset of a gunfighter that's having a tough time dealing with his trade. Having just blanked another cowboy in a gunfight, needing that bottle to chase the demons...............'His strain released into the sea." and 'His pulse pounded into the earth.' Were two lines cleverly set in place and spot on in a colorful description that anyone that has reached for a bottle has felt upon the initial blast of alcohol.........The ending was grand and fit perfectly...........
Complicity to me is the way I ride my motorcycle when I'm alone. Rarely do I do the speed limit, I enjoy the feel of 80+ mph on a mountain road.
I would fall into the category of those that are charged with complicity through the act of watching or knowing without reporting it. Peace is my new goal in life. I usually make a consious effort to make it through the day without grief. Drinking is not an option because of my sugar problems. I do maintain a healthy amount of exercise and eat right (most of the time) so I do get to down some spirits once in a while. I miss my days of downing tequila and holding on as the earth spun. If I drink to get drunk now I will pass out from a sugar coma before achieving my desired effect. Where's the fun in that?
I stopped at a local tavern this afternoon after work and had dinner with a couple of frosted mugs of Yuengling light. Nothing funny about that... I guess I'm a boring comedy writer.
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