Why/How

Can you understand it? I cant. Or, at least I don't think I do. The rapid movement of my right hand makes the table shake, which leads me to see the liquid in my drink quiver. Periphery. Pulp. They say your periphery is better than your straight on. I won't take their word for it though, I have no idea who "they" are. Still here. Sort of. You take 5 steps back. I was sitting on a curb the other day, early morning, still drunk, that big, beautiful sun shitting all over my face. Some guy with a scar on his face walks by & I ask him, "Hey, you ever been in love"? He pauses. "I've been married 4 times, I learned to let go". "You have a nice day". I'm trying to fill up the dark spaces in my mind, the hole thats in my chest. These bottles sure as hell ain't no gauze. That wound there is still gaping, that blood still flows freely. I watch it wind its way down towards my dick. That asshole. I let him get too far ahead of himself, think too much for me. Now look at us. He's covered in blood (not to say that blood isn't something he's not used to being around), & I'm twiddling my thumbs, blundering. It ain't about WHY, it's about HOW. Speaking of which, what the hell are you going on about?