Don't have friends that work at liquor stores.
They know what's good.
They get it cheap.
They have lots of friends they want you to meet.

I drank so much ***.

Quality ****.

I'm still drunk,
in the morning I hope this makes sense.

Here's what happened:

I went to the store and bought a mop,
our bathroom and kitchen floors are caked with
a various assortment of coffee, cheese, grease, and lots of other
mysterious things.

Clayton shot me a line,
said, "I got the *** you need to try."
I went to his place around 11.

The only honest girl,
the only girl I care to speak to,
the only girl I think I could even be attracted to,
had a heavy heart for her ex-one reemerged,
and all I know is he will make me further obsolete.

I got to Clayton's.
We smoked.
Watched a classic noir film.
Drank. Drank. Drank.

"Want to smoke a hookah?"

"Sure, man. It's whatever."

Off to Nathan's we went.

Nathan lives with a Persian girl
with impeccable skin.

Nathan has a Mexican lady interest,
who I wanted to pin.

I controlled my intake to purgatory states.
I played sweet.
I played collected.
I played drinking games.

I texted another ex.
A different one this time.
She didn't want to come over.
She's smarter than I remembered.

Clayton,
you are my destroyer.
I'll see you tomorrow
to **** myself again.