We sat in the front seat of the school bus and he showed me his YuGiOh cards, while I sat, reticent, eyes glazed over, straining to feign a doting air. I knew, glancing at his uniquely steady hands, that he could shoot up a school at a moment’s notice. Nobody liked Cory. Hell, I didn’t like Cory. I wrung my hands trying to bond with him over our favorite My Chemical Romance song as I contemplated abrading my groin with coarse sandpaper in a fetishistic act of escapism.
An arsenal of anxiety
Born out of bad timing
I invested in a few moments in purgatory
To dodge an intentional bullet.
These are the folks that might grow up,
Join the military
And vent their frustrations out alone
Or if they’re lucky
Start a family
Never talk about
That’s this beer. For everyone who considered suicide a fashion statement, there’s this beer. For everyone who got a little too much into Norse mythology, there’s this beer. For anyone who’s currently a CPA, there’s this God-forsaken Belgian Tripel.
Just give him the money and go.
Let him eat his taco bell in the food court
Apricot, hazy, gold around the edges of the glass. Bright, white, fluffy head. Moderate lacing.
banana acetone, white pepper, rosemary and thyme. Orange and grass.
For no one but himself
Apple cider, black pepper, bananas if they were bitter, bubblegum, buckwheat honey, baked apple. Cloyingly sweet…
But who will find them?
Effervescent, syrupy, medium thick.
Like the blood on li
My fin gers
*9.4 out of 10*