Perhaps just one or two,
I drink too much you see.
A quiet beer spirals into bottles of whisky far more often than not.
And tonight,
It certainly did.

Staggering home in the rain,
Unable to walk straight,
Alone in the dark damp streets of my grey city.
I take my phone from my pocket and scroll through my contacts,
A long list of choice,
Perhaps one hundred people.
Ex girlfriends and current pals and those who I got drunk with.

Head a mess and slightly sad,
I scroll through all their names.

Only to feel worse;
Because I don't want to talk to any of them at all.