Happened to me on a street corner on either a late night or an early morning. It took a wallet full of cider, a charity of spirits, a shared packet of ****** and the smell of glue. Not the cheap stuff, the glue for models, and they look alright, right? right man?
The night left me outside my head, with my thoughts, I had a handful of anti-headaches. We nearly bled out last time we admitted all our mistakes, my friend, who always ends a night with a head on my shoulder, snotting up my collar, hiccuping up frag grenades, **** and apologies.