Arriving home from a night of drinks,
I think I finally understood
something
about the nature of
death
in a tangible sense:
being at a party to the point
you are so dulled
by all the
outside
you decide to go home and blackout for the night,
not caring what you miss -
you are done,
tired,
your feet hurt
(probably your joints too)
and you just want the release
from all that
too much.

Of course,
when you do it at a party,
you fully expect to be back
on your feet
the next morning
(more like afternoon);
to go on,
to continue
for there to be
other parties.

The other difference
being,
when in happens to life,
you know
you won't have to listen,
the very next day,
to water cooler Joe
saying
that just after
you left
the party "exploded",
the music was
"freakin' awesome, dude!",
everyone went "craaaaazy",
and "Cindy went off to blow some guy in the bathroom"
and, "oh man", it could have probably been "you"
had "you" stuck
around.