Under the table

With ten beers left of twelve
I am motivated to accomplish all of my tasks with fervor…
And I try to forget him and I swear, I am almost there-
With eight beers left of twelve
Every song I play reminds me of where I was when I heard it first and who my boyfriend was then and I wonder if I have that number still somewhere…
And I know that I can forget him if I just try harder-
With six beers left of twelve
I think I should have worked out today because I have two stomachs and I don’t like how the top one is bigger than the bottom one…
And I really need to forget him because there was nothing there-
With four beers left of twelve
I wonder if I could apologize to the people that I have hurt but then I know the next thing is sex because that’s all they wanted me for in the first place and I don’t care how they lie about it, so fuck them…
And I nearly forgot him and I swear, I don’t want him there-
With only two beers left of twelve
I pretend to lose count and need to recount and figure out how much I have left to work with….
Feeling resolved, absolved, revived, regenerated, refreshed, happy, fragile, famous, free, flighty, and funny…
And I vaguely remember him because now he blends into all of them-
One beer left of twelve
I aim to slow down but slowing down will slow the buzz and slowing the buzz is a no no…
About to get another 12 pack and have sex with someone that I don’t care for who has a big dick and lots of weed and who I will ignore tomorrow because I already know that I am going to feel badly about leading this cat on…
And now I want him more than anything in the world-
With no beers left of twelve…




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