The sleepy rumors disappear once your head is weighed down by alcohol and your legs are lagged with exhaustion. And then you feel that pensive excitemement about nothing in particular. You turn the volume up and I turn the volume down. The night is young, but do you want to go home? I don't care, something is weighing down my eyelids, my eyes are watering but my mouth is dry. My limbs are relaxed and heavy and moving seems like the most difficult thing in the world. I try to speak but I as I open my mouth my voice cords feel rusty and then I forget what I was going to say. The slow, languid strokes of your fingers against my arms drum the gentle vibrations into my skin and I wish that tomorrow will never come. The dip of this couch repeats the curves of my back and the ache at the base of my spine mingles and then fades in with the other sensations that are trying to overrun my mind.