Glass

I never wanted to be Cinderella,
I am not that naive
those glass shoes could never hold me.
-Shannon Masayo



I'm sorry, I'm leaving.
I'm sorry, but you can't come with me.
You've made it clear; I'm the one you want.
But you're not the type to waste your time
pulling petals off of forget-me-nots.
You've had your fun, you're all grown up, and you need a little more.

This is my course, not yours.
One way ticket for a guilt trip.
Still, it's better to leave you on the shore,
than stranded on a sinking ship.

Nietzsche tells me I'm trained for war,
You're a warrior's recreation, and nothing more.
I'd fain disagree.
Because you bring out the best in me,
like sun-shine stained glass.
You make me brilliant, darling.
Now let me make you proud.
--Tylor Sherman


Glass


Clink, clink
Two small cubes drop into a stubby six-ounce glass
Twist, twist
His fingers turn the cap like a combination safe
Glug, glug
A liquor rope pours from a whiskey decanter
The aromatic complexities of a 1978 bourbon fill his nostrils
He cocks his head back and lets the sour mash well-up between his teeth and bottom lip
The dam of flesh and enamel breaks open, flooding his mouth with warmth
80-proof amber soup rolls around waking all the taste a tongue can possibly interpret
Swish, swish
It’s a goddamn flavor symphony
Each section of tongue delivering rich notes of oak, and grain
He smiles as he feels the satisfying warmth slide past the backside of his heart
He savors this moment
It’s that sensation right before you cum, and the cigarette afterwards rolled into one gratifying feeling
That’s how good it feels to him
Most people lack the dedication that he invests in his passion
Typically, people just rifle shots down their throats
They grimace and gag making fucked up faces
They want to get as drunk as possible as soon as possible
So they can be comfortable in their own skin
So they can sing, and dance, and fuck, and puke the night away
Rookies! Fucking Amateurs! He thinks aloud as he takes another swallow
But he, the gentlemen, has the experience required to enjoy the intricacies of a balanced liquor
He’s put in his time
He’s paid his dues
His dues have cost him everything
His six figure salary…gone
His family of four are a four- hour plane ride and forty- minute shuttle away
He is a bald, fat shell of the man he used to be
His life now measured in fifths and hangovers
Within the hour, his pressed wool slacks are strewn on the back of his filthy couch
His shirt collar popped open; his silk tie loosened several notches and drooping
He finds himself half naked staring in the bathroom mirror
Rubber arms prop the weight of his heavy torso above the vanity
He stands hovering, wobbling, watching his reflection cartwheel and distort
His mind starts reeling like a clutch refusing to grab a gear
“If only I hadn’t had that first drink”
“If only I hadn’t cheated on and beat my wife”
“If only I wasn’t me”
His final drunken thought before he crumples into a pathetic heap on the floor;
“ My glass has always been half full of something, tomorrow I will drain the glass and start again”


:)rYaN bAkEr (*)(*)

Coming Back

To anyone that gets some type of satisfaction from this blog, we are going to come back to posting words and more words. I'm (Tylor) pretty excited about it, considering how much has changed since the last time we were keeping up with the blog. Hopefully we can get something up at least once a week. It feels sort of silly saying this, but I mean it completely, thank you for reading this blog.
-Tylor