CHIVALRY - gregory heaney


gregory heaney

My throat, raw and ragged and ruined, a victim of back alley alchemy, the process by which yelling turns bourbon into sandpaper, the process by which strangers make teeth taste like pennies, like unwanted change delivered on the terrible edges of generous fists provoked by my tongue trying to defend yours in good faith that my mouth, with lips that taste like carmex in an ashtray, like sugar and carbon and forest fires, ruined by carelessness and cold, would get to hang out with yours, and at least get to crash on your couch.

Gregory Heaney is an Arsenal supporter who likes his home messy, his hands clean, and has been known to smoke and drink to excess. His writing has appeared in Cellar Roots, 50/50, Dogzplot, and a massive database filled with information that you may or may not ever need. Born with a nervous disposition, he was once overheard at a party saying "Oh man, I sure hope I don't die tonight."