...can't sleep...can't eat, can't even walk the floor...nothing to drink or do but sit here lamenting life without you. I suppose I should be thanking my lucky stars that I got away basically intact instead of continually going on about this sorry state of affairs, but the heart is a peculiar organ and once smitten quite reluctant to let go...
But let go I do and here I am alone at three a. m. wondering who you are 'dancing' with and where, but soon this self-pitying blast leaves and I am still here with no thoughts of you nor anything else; a blank in the night staring out the dark windows into endless black space.
What matter anything?
I shake loose from the gloom of life and spin one up, put the lucifer to it and toke away...fill the bowl and watch blue smoke dancing on the windflaws...
Dreamy, filled with longing, aching for a break, THE break from dependency on others to the freedom only brought about by liquid assets...in the meantime these 'liquid assets' take the form of a six pack of Guinness dropped off periodically by well-meaning friends inadvertently feeding my fever, for which I am grateful beyond telling, believe me, even though I realize that at this rate I shall probably drink myself to death in a few more short years, but such is life in the breakdown lane...
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