Four days. Shadows now begin to lurk at the edges of my vision, my sunken eyes in a conundrum of expressions, my mind now only a fraction of that of the tiniest animal. Do you know that animals are polite? Yes. What’s your name? Yes. For four days my heart has had the stalking company of silence. It’s a nice day today. Yes. It’s almost like meditation. Would you like coffee or tea? Beer. What would I make of this peace? There’s no beer. ...Beer.

The evening darkness gives off a relaxing daze in the -ber months. That’s a doze off for everyone else. The beer runs endless here, its smooth chill on my stress-parched throat quenches my spirit, with spirits. The shadows look, they are envious. I offer them a bottle. Dude, you’re alright? Huh? I was here just a minute ago. ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?  

My friend has been very nice. I called him to ask if I could go over to his place to drink. No, I can’t. We ended up drinking anyway. Beer-Yes.  

Whoever says that cola bottles are **** has not seen a beer’s. Or they might not have yet the right tips. Day one: Statistics class: What is the scale of measurement for levels of aggression? If you seek, you are already lost. If you don’t, you will never find.    

I have a feeling I’m later going to go on autopilot again. It’s surprising how the body can remember places the mind had lost to drinking. It’s a nice evening, yes? Yes. Day two: Day three: Huh? For a certain amount, alcohol would be pleased to accompany anyone. The shadows do like their drinks; their perpetual longing for things clutched to moments almost mirrors mine. I tire of beer, bring some hard ones. They like their tips. *Yes-Yes, …Beer.