it begins about mid-evening, the edges of the rug being pulled ever so gently. intoxicated feet do not notice a room slipping beneath them.
it hastens nearer to morning; as the magic carpet ride is coming to a close we begin to pat our bodies & notice the things that fell from us. sobriety. clothes. drugs. money.... ego walls pain
After inventory is taken, the day starts without waiting for your tired eyes. oh, the saddest meeting of eyes, with the swiftest passing of friends, drugs, memories, laughter evening abliss.
I am dropped, center stage -- reality. at the same moment the drugs wear off. the last quarter is spent. the first rays of the sun peek through and the last meeting of eyes as the last glimpse of a shoe disappears at the door's edge.
the rug has been pulled reality and the curtains have been drawn slumber.
I spent too many evenings getting ****** up in hotels and trying to run from everything. this is my declaration of an old cycle