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the apartment brimmed with laughter as drinks sloshed in solo cups and shots lapped at the back of our throats. Powdered brown sugar molly sat warming in the front pocket of Ming-Ming’s jeans as we threw back more skyy. Photobooth pictures flashing in the next room while we circled and lit rolling papers. Getting to the warehouse we dipped fingers into the ziplock bag and onto our tongue, shaking the chemical aftertaste from our thoughts. Night turning to a wild blur of glistening smiles and drunk tales only stopping to catch my breath as I sat in the bed downing beers. Room a tornado mess we finally closed our eyes and talked till drunk slurs became incoherent.


I'm Happiest When The Car Stereo Is Playing