A blur would have been too much to ask for.
On this, my final night before the big Monday morning drive down those familiar roads all the way to my own personal tomb it seems I have not drank enough despite my double vision.
I should be heading towards a soft place to rest my head, I shouldn't be lighting another cigarette, I shouldn't be wide awake.
I tried to drink as many beers in as little time as possible, I tried to reboot the system.
This doesn't seem to solve the problem anymore.
I'm either back where I started, only dizzier or I'm sick.
No solution.
No rest.
I'll find something to crunch on. I'll draw my blood away from my head without hurting myself.
If this plan turns out a failure, it's off to the medicine cabinet for little plan b's.
Yeah, how I wish. Just a closet full of Tums and toothpaste.
Why is it that the things I hate are the things I become as soon as it's a little easier.
It's funny how easily the little voice I refuse to hear get's drowned out by the dozens of mouthy bad ideas I just can't say no to.
"Will I go outside to suck the fire?" Why yes, I'd love another.
I'll just ignore that faint weeze.
I'll pretend I'm exempt from the human condition and hit the pillow clear headed.
At last a silent moment, at last the quiet colors of a dream.
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