Sitting here with beer in hand drinking awaiting better days but the better days are so few and the dull nights grow longer so I crack another open and discard the last empty as me to the corner not sure how many this has been now not sure. . . days. . bottles. . . whatever drowning aching thoughts consuming waiting for something maybe for the phone to ring or a visit from the ones who have forgotten you but the women you want come too late the ones you dont come to frequent neither really care much they will outlive you anyway most likely most do drinking away the money you would otherwise spend on unaffordable things that you dont really need as you cast another to the pile bottles upon bottles in bins and bags clattering on a cluttered table along with crumpled retrospection hell. . . . at least there is a bright side Michigan does have a 10 cent bottle deposit in which you can take them back to buy more beer