It's been awhile since I got smashed, since I dove from a skylight into a puddle, since, since...I forgot what I was about to say.
This is pleasant, this softening of colours, the familiar smells, sweet and noxious, the pain that reaches into my marrow and slams me to the floor.
Do I weep?
Do I vomit?
Decisions, decisions...
There's something vaguely cleansing about the whole thing. Like a benediction. I look out of my little corner and smile sweetly at the blurred, indistinct figures all around.
Ah, someone is talking to me, but I can't hear over the noise (music?) and my ears are already blocked from the absinthe.
I want to lean back, but that wouldn't be a good idea. I might fall and there would be no one to catch me. Because I'm here alone. As always. Alone. I don't mind. You get used to it after awhile.
And maybe I should take a walk outside because, because, because, I could keep the rats company and wave at strangers and sing to myself....
Wasted again in Margaritaville
Searching for my last shaker of salt
Some people claim that there's a woman to blame
But I know, it's my own damn fault.
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