Bottom of my 5th glass
and it’s nowhere near blurred enough.
Five is no finite number.
I can’t hear what is being said.
I am oblivious.
Lost in the sea of lights and chairs,
the dark coolness of the car dashboard,
We should drive all night.
I enjoy the length and expanse of an empty table.
There’s wind on the terrace and the light is subdued.
White, light curtains trailing. Things move slowly and are simple enough.
I can think without clouds.
But now my cocoon collects too much heat.
I must pace and try and get all this cleared out of me.
I feel utterly blocked up.
This is full of opportunities and I have to grasp grasp grasp my whole life.
I’m going to stand in the storm,
and watch the chopped sea, as if it were hacked by a rusty scissors,
and let the howl breath through me.
I’ll feel a bit better.
This is full of opportunities
I will grasp grasp grasp my whole life.
And who knows,
the end will come.