"The Life And Times Of A Lush"

The Life And Times Of A Lush


"That last sip was water whipped.
Go ahead and turn the heat up."
The bartender fills my cup
as I lay back and kick my feet up.
I've been going at it strong.
I should grab a bite and eat up;
because I might not make it home
and I'll likely tear the street up.
My girlfriend just texted me:
She reminded me of the the time
when we tore the back seat up.
She's waiting for me to come home:
A glass or two of fine wine
then I'll have some guts to beat up.


I fondly remember the day
that we happened to meet.
It was two drinks for one Thursday;
so I came early to claim my seat.
She moved with grace and power;
drawing eyes when she walked in
but I was focused on happy hour;
so I just sat there; soaking up gin.
She sat next to me upon arrival
as if her intentions were to greet.
Our conversing started off slow
but definitely ended up sweet.
She said "You seem to favor gin.
How about some tequila instead?"
I asked "How do you like it?"
Her reply: "I take shots to the head."


She then started grabbing bottles
as if it would impress me.
She said "As far as vodka goes,
I like Skol and Sobieski."
I polished off my glass
and replied "Well Dear:
I'm of a higher class.
I prefer Ciroc and Belvedere.
If that's too high for you to see,
then feel free to try Smirnoff;
but I can truly guarantee:
Three cups will get your clothes off."
She labeled my brand selection cute
before she eyed a bottle of Skyy;
Then told me about how Absolut
once made her insides cry.


We found common ground instantly
and met up almost every day:
Losing ourselves in conversing
while drinking Cruzan and Parrot Bay.
It shouldn't have been that way.
Maybe the liquor fueled our desire.
Honest and real was washed away
in a bottle of Bombay Sapphire.


I flung my bottle into the fire.
I could've just thrown it away;
but I knew I'd never retire
from a trash can full of Tanqueray.
I think I've lost my way.
Better yet: I'm sure of this;
because no matter how much it hurts,
I punish myself and call it bliss.
This is just ridiculous:
I act as if I've been provoked
to choke down large amounts
of Crown Royal and Coke.
I've found no way to compensate;
for the fact that remains true
that I relentlessly salivate
at the sight of Myer's and Malibu.


It's like there's nothing better to do.
I hardly feel like a normal person
unless I'm absorbing copious amounts
of my favorite Scotch or Bourbon.
I drink hard each day at any hour;
so I'm used to being tardy
but I always feel empowered
when there's Bacardi at the party.
I hardly ever adhere to schedules
due to my addictive traits
so I've no will power or mettle
and now it feels like it's too late.


My Uncle used to say:
"Boy, that brown will put you down."
That stuck with me every day
because all I seem to do is frown.


My Best friend used to say:
"Dude, that white will get you right;"
but I wonder what justifies
having new company every night?


My Cousin used to say:
"Man, that Goose will get you loose."
Well, I'm in dire need of balance:
My life and lust won't call a truce.


That girl from last night told me:
"Two shots of gin; and I'll make you sin."
That brought me back to the end of we:
The day I'd never see my love again.


That text wasn't from my baby.
She left me a long time ago.
It was from one of many maybes
who never could find a "no."
I really can't say that I blame her.
She would always trust a try;
but my destructive, reckless behavior
always gave her reasons to cry.
So now I search for Southern Comfort
without the need for a chaser
but Evan Williams nor Captain Morgan
never really seemed to replace her.
The Sour Mash was never dashed.
Bitters never tamed the flavors
of disdainful wines and spirits
that have earnestly become my erasers.


I relinquished my ability to think
and what was a brighter past
with each and every mixed drink
coupled with the contents of my shot glass.
Life and love was mine's to claim.
Nowadays, I don't have much.
I've lost all that I could gain
for the life and times of a lush.


Written By: Devin Joseph Metz