Re: Stacks

I enjoy escalation. High views and idea seeds with potential to Dragon’s Den it. Always wondered about day drinks, like, what do your kids say about it? And when the scotch leaves a yellow stain on dead lip skin does it sting when you kiss or is your body a cocktail shook against shop bought ice, source unknown, anybody’s tap and guess?

I crush stacks, and filter my money like water with Brita, like Facebook friends I didn’t face see in five years or four. The details unreleased online like a phone number or a bedroom tidiness level, I in person suck up and teeth knock like dominos together, dice in a wooden cup.

I’ve gambled your pension, my seed money, college fund, direct debit holiday six ninety nine and saving stamps. And I gamble it again, and you, on a horse tip overheard at all day breakfast. And I win you double, sleep in the middle of you like I’m the gap between twin mattresses pushed together.

I’m the bumper; your impact, years later, is my bite degenerating after 9 years of an overnight brace.