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I mingle with darkness in a drunken state. Baby I'm gone, sipping Dom Perignon, more like Gordan's but remorseless, sedated, distorted, elated and important so I seem to be in an alcoholic dream. Perhaps tearing at the seams, in fact, with a cup to my lips, burning blunt at the tip. I'm tactful, bashful, mackful, Jill and Bella...or is it Lilly and Stella? I met you at Coachella? Marry and - hella ass, damn - sorry the liquor's past me, Daphne? She slaps me laughs, "T's wack", tease back, "distract me", happily, pack weed, Pack, we pass then Pabst together, me, Julie, and Heather, giving fucks like who's better? spill stains on my sweater. Can't stop staring at her breasts, thorns on our heads or horns what a mess, I was born coming back from the liquor store on eighth with Jack and Powerade, bleh. But now were saved, and now we rage, as the trumpets blare, my only care what's in my cup, what's in my bladder. Fatter in my fiction, even badder with my slurred diction. Pitter patter as they mix drinks, bitter sinners finna titter teeter over from the bitter matter that empowered them, don't fix things. Homie don't fix shit! I mean this I need this, I'm fiending for seamless indulgences. Bitch, I'm a dove in the day but unafraid in a fray when I'm ticked you're a dick, I'm drunk, we hug, there's dirt on the rug, lets get up fucked

I can feel the buzz, I don't know who I is, I don't know who I was, still I face this shit. Still I smile as I say I deserve this shit. "All work, no play", nod my head to the beat just bounce.

I play beer pong rip ice bong Rick Ross song, caught a glimpse of
Helen's pink Pink thong, something in my heads wrong. Tummy tosses, I swerve. Outside visions blurred, looking down at the cement
whoa all the cracks squirm, look at all the stars turn - did I just see cement? Say cement? Say semen? Say she's gleaming, seeming to say "T's up". Hey miss C cup, did you miss me? Bitch, I beseech thee, hit you with a kiss and we're blissful. Mistress, see, I'm Mr. rabbit. You're my niche and I'm weak with a really bad habit. Dark room busy bees don't think just please. What fate, shes bait. That's good in my hood like: does she see these in DC I say si si si si surplus of seeds in the south, XO, whoops, the Sour D I hit next
puts me in a drought but I gleefully found what I needed: sour patch kids in my pocket! I'm a demon seething with only holy rum and coca-coly matrimony in my tum to get beneath me. And I'm blurry and I'm slurry and upset maybe but I'll kirk, and I'll twerk. But I enjoy this, I enjoy th-

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from Teddy Rycroft EP, released December 13, 2013

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Teddy Rycroft Washington, D.C.

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