A star in each eye like a headlight

Here we are again knotted, drunk
teenagers, you're breathing into
my neck and the driver's sizzling through
the night in the back seat I'm hearing
something about 'geography' but

God only know what you're saying
I'm viscously drunk, we threw them
down, you bringing glasses and glasses
to my wide jackal face and lips
pushing red into your, what is your

Spreading tattoos over my arms, onto
my winterdry hands my face is flakes
and keratin, the raw and the cooked.
The walls are thin in this house so
I woke liquid with shame, what is your