I wanted to see if I could properly express my thoughts through literature while intoxicated.

What if our lives are just homes we are cursed to spend our existence renovating?

A curse can be beautiful, I’ve pulled up the hardwood and laid down smooth marble throughout.

Happy to rid myself of that disastrous foundation, crumbling with termites munching throughout.

The walls come down, this is now an open space.

Successful renovations are determined by knowing what to fix and what to replace.

In with the old, out with the new, I order my habits once more.

More hard wood results with tears on the hard wood, I can’t be surprised im floored.