Marked for Death

I don't like bourbon. The one time I was offered it and consumed it, was immediately followed by involuntary discharge of my stomach contents.

But I've heard people talk about it. 

And I think the best bourbon would taste the way Emma Ruth Rundle sounds. 

Smoky, heavy, smooth. 

Embers of smoldering relationships, releasing their smoke. 

The effort of coping with life trying to wrench itself. 

The warmth follows in it's laminar wake as you trace memories.

As Emma puts it in “Protection”

Hush now, here there is no trouble

Quiet down, you know that I have got you

But I’m spinning out into a bottle

Where’s my connection to you

It’s my protection.