What is it then?
Its true that you're here. Its true that you just paid for a whiskey. That reminds me. Ech. You can wash windows with this shit. There's the burn though, makes me feel all nice & cozy. A woman led you here. You traced your memories out to queens. Bedbugs. This cycle is vicious. I'm positive thanksgiving is a bullshit holiday. Thankful for what? Jesus. Be happy that you're alive. Save your thanks & your praise, I deserve nor want either.
I'm finding that the solution to this whole mess is to bury myself in cunt. I like booze enough, but it doesn't hold me. I drop the pants, climb in, & set up for the foreseeable future. I tend to walk out drenched in all regards, but at least I get to push the pain off for a little while.
This bar-top isn't level, everything keeps sliding away. I'll consider that a microcosm. How much is too much? Honestly. On that note as well, what is vice? What a load of nonsense, this idea of vice. You do what you do & you use these supposed "ills" to your advantage. Addictions are for the weak kneed. That's not entirely true. I know some tough motherfuckers who've smelled the earth.
Someone recently told me that I was a glutton for suffering.
I think they were right.