Two pills and heaven.
Spoons are yay material, and I am not dead, I just passed out alot over the weekend, sleepy sleepy.
Heres how it works: I take two pills and a shot of vodka. He does the same. We sit around and laugh as things grow lucid. I take two more and another shot. He does the same. We push some adderal into our system. we laugh and the world turns to colors I've never expereienced before. Oh, were so naughty, we're so unbeliveably horrible to our systems.
"I'll race you to rehab" he giggles to me. "uh huh" I say as I flop over watching the world change pace with my hearbeat. the sluggish lights now dance in their sockets. My white bedsheets glow and reflect on our face. I pull myself up carefully, so I wouldn't wreck the balence of the world, and he does the same. Our eyes are glossy, and we totter up. I head to the kitchen and open the fridge and take out some wine.
"this is what gets me through" I shout as I push it into the air. I grab a glass from the cubord, and drop it instead of putting it nicely onto the counter. I crack a smile as he watches the glass, its shattered shards reflecting rainbows that only he can see. I know whats going on. I'm no stranger to the effects that these things have on your mind.
I drink straight from the bottle, and he does the same. We stumble to the living room, watching the walls go checkerboard on us, the night is being photographed by our minds in brilliant hues. The simplest things become heartbreakingly beautiful.
His hair in his face, my shoes shoved into a corner, kicked off upon arival to my house. My guitar and its nickle strings, dirty clothes thrown in a pile onto a chair. All these things ingrained into my mind, these pictures, these simple things, all renered beautiful by the pills and the drinking and the company.
God, Sometimes I can't believe I do this, but I just need to forget sometimes? Pass out in good company.
I'm off to new york in a few days, to go house hunting and make some TV appearences. Watch out for the almighty drunk conor oberst. I'm not sure how the omaha crew will take me moving, but we'll see. I need to survive. I don't feel like I am here.
survive
survive.
(maybe its about not giving up)
Heres how it works: I take two pills and a shot of vodka. He does the same. We sit around and laugh as things grow lucid. I take two more and another shot. He does the same. We push some adderal into our system. we laugh and the world turns to colors I've never expereienced before. Oh, were so naughty, we're so unbeliveably horrible to our systems.
"I'll race you to rehab" he giggles to me. "uh huh" I say as I flop over watching the world change pace with my hearbeat. the sluggish lights now dance in their sockets. My white bedsheets glow and reflect on our face. I pull myself up carefully, so I wouldn't wreck the balence of the world, and he does the same. Our eyes are glossy, and we totter up. I head to the kitchen and open the fridge and take out some wine.
"this is what gets me through" I shout as I push it into the air. I grab a glass from the cubord, and drop it instead of putting it nicely onto the counter. I crack a smile as he watches the glass, its shattered shards reflecting rainbows that only he can see. I know whats going on. I'm no stranger to the effects that these things have on your mind.
I drink straight from the bottle, and he does the same. We stumble to the living room, watching the walls go checkerboard on us, the night is being photographed by our minds in brilliant hues. The simplest things become heartbreakingly beautiful.
His hair in his face, my shoes shoved into a corner, kicked off upon arival to my house. My guitar and its nickle strings, dirty clothes thrown in a pile onto a chair. All these things ingrained into my mind, these pictures, these simple things, all renered beautiful by the pills and the drinking and the company.
God, Sometimes I can't believe I do this, but I just need to forget sometimes? Pass out in good company.
I'm off to new york in a few days, to go house hunting and make some TV appearences. Watch out for the almighty drunk conor oberst. I'm not sure how the omaha crew will take me moving, but we'll see. I need to survive. I don't feel like I am here.
survive
survive.
(maybe its about not giving up)