“raised spirits”

after drinking a bottle of Midnight Moon Moonshine with friends…

 

 

You love whiskey
it is indifferent to your existence.
whiskey thinks your liver is full of shit and wants her dead
the ice cubes, and conversations conspire with the refined sugars
and fermented hatred they wait for you at the bar.
Their intent is murderous but the women look gorgeous
and the night air plays the guitar.