i pissed on the couch i pissed on the floor
i drank till i pissed
he called me a whore
i clocked his face then followed him home
hated his guts but couldn’t be alone
5 in the morning
he called me a whore
a nod filled with defeat
i drank and pissed some more
on a floor made of oak
on a couch
pillows soaked
i cry urine i piss pain
pussy eyeballs all the same
he mixes it up
calls me a slut
love bumps into walls
when it’s eyes are taped shut.
duct taped nice and tight
bourbon filled keg
dignity was a liquid
that i peed down my leg
i wasn’t a whore
knew no better did my best
had i known then
perhaps i would have drank and pissed less.
that decade was a white hot fucking mess.