I wake up with a cigarette clinging to my lips like a wee man hanging from a cliff.
I relieve him momentarily by swilling a beer.
I peel myself off my leg and hope my aim is true.
If my leg starts getting wet.
I know something’s off.
General Tso stops in for breakfast whilst I judge the breast of the weather *****.
Fill up the worlds tiniest salad bowl before setting fire to it.
My eyes redden like morning suns before an afternoon storm.
There was something I was suppose to do today.
Or was it yesterday?
I’m hoping tomorrow never gets here so that I don’t have to stress about whatever it was I forgot.
Imagine that?
Wishing for death as opposed to having a memory return.
**** yeah.
Cast some thoughts into the ether, burn a bridge, and stare into the sun for a while.
One more cigarette before bed.
One more night alone.