Lately, the whiskey hits different. Before, I would dance in my seat, laugh from my throat, while hoping no one would see the sadness in my eyes, feigning happiness and interest in life and lovers, when all I wanted to do was stagger home and cry the hot tears that heated my head so much. I would be with people, but not there. My eyes distant and helpless.
Lately, the whiskey hits different. Before it moved down my throat from my lips to my stomach like hot lava. But I needed sleep, so I continued to swallow this liquid fire that lulled me into blissful slumber, where once more I would be with my mother Mary.
Lately, the whiskey hits different. I have no desire to escape. No need to drown my demons. My demons all want a chance to speak. And they have real shit to say. I fear them no more, they are great company. We are chums, close confidants, we have been together for so long, and boy do they love their whiskey. I will never know why I thought whiskey would drown them!
Lately, the whiskey hits different. I hear the old me begging the new me to be quiet. She desperately tries to hold me back. But I am too strong. ‘Hahaha uuuuuuu’, I laugh as I brush her aside. I feel sad for her though, always tossed aside. Always betrayed. Always abandoned. Now, I too must reject her. I must take my seat to the table. I must raise my voice, so I am heard. I must stand up, so I am seen. No more will I be hidden.
Lately, the whiskey hits different. I feel brand new. There is a mischief in my eye. There is a ‘come hither!’ in my smile. There is a sway in my hips. My breasts bounce, and my waists winds. I know what I want, and I get it when I want it.
Lately, the whiskey hits different. If I laugh with them, it is sarcastic. I can feel my eyes become slits, as I add ‘uuuuu!’ at the end of my laughter. Sometimes, I even lift a leg and clap my hands at the ridiculousness of it all. I can see through their masks. I hear them talk behind my back. How did I ever manage these people? I was so desperate to call you friends and family.
Lately, the whiskey hits different. I speak the truth. I say it how it is. My only apology is speaking it under the influence of this nectar. I do not apologize for saying it though. It is what I mean, it is my truth, it is my story.
Lately, the whiskey hits different. I love my company. I cherish silence. I wait eagerly for the visions. I see you before you see me. I know. I heard you before you spoke. I discovered my gift, and it had nothing to do with the holy spirit.
Lately, the whiskey hits different. I have acquired the taste. I savour it. I enjoy the feeling. I am in no rush. I cherish the first sip. I laugh with my heart and my eyes. A fool, no more I am. Cheers.