keeping warm by that old stove kicking back shots and always a beer in hand we lived as if nothing could ever matter for nothing ever changed the same man sleeping at six or seven having passed out from half-a-days work and a hard days drinking sitting around there for warmth some kind of something men don't often talk about much women there were hard to find, not for lack of trying they just always seemed so out of place when they did actually appear extending the night was the main concern making the most out of the ample time given to us trying desperately to squeeze out juice from every instant with anything free at hand retreating back to sofas for sleep waking up with head aches intolerable beer cans all around going hard because there was no where to go debasing our minds with the nights succulent spoils tabbed pilled or powder madness feels like sanity at the right moment knowing full well it can't be caught as it slips through your fingers only to be inhaled the following friday then blown away once again at day break a perpetual mind **** was the goal with actual ******* just secondary reasoning living to forget what it means to be alive in this world where identity has been distilled to mere pages in an infinite book that doesn't really exist what else to expect from shattered youth abused mainly by design but also by choice you could class it all up increase the age and ornament add black books, black dresses black ties champagne & chandeliers still dormant at its core as time passes and falls apart the fire still there burns even in museums at midnight Dionysus consumes Apollo so warm your hands for as long as you can it only grows more insipid increasingly cold and bitter both the truth and the liquor till everythingβs but a pause and black