they were always three sheets to the wind anyway,
the idiots.
together we would shriek and raid ears
as we rolled across the parking lots.
the ice and snow were never cold enough
to turn our skin blue, but
we covered ourselves in it anyway.

then they tried lucid visions but they weren't sincere
enough.
they tried caffeine, mescaline, adrenaline.
they tried to go the whole nine yards
and only got eight.
i spat in their faces, the hipster *****,
as mortality flaunted her **** in front of me.

handicapped and average,
i put a toe out of line and it was returned to me
mangled.
i dredged the barrel and found limes in
the cracks and the wood tasted of hops.
i was a visiter and you all hung from the ceiling,
cradled in my scarves.

i woke up and saw white walls and
the umbrella in the corner was no longer tangible.