Oh, the irony...
Could have had it all.
Ironic, really.
Could have swallowed a whole gallon of delight,
and still manage to drive home.
Might have been able to make it,
Had it not been so difficult.
Maybe, next time, I'll take another route.
It seems he were a vagabond
what sort, I am not sure.
But he became a transient of my soul,
wandering around inside of me,
loitering, forcing me to kick him out.
It seems he made himself welcome,
built a home in me,
curled up with a bottle
and fell the fuck asleep.
Unable to be awakened,
I simply listen to him snore.
Marking the breaths,
waiting for the final one.
Then this conscience business will be done.
There is a storm approaching,
it is there, waiting behind the trees.
I feel its breeze blowing,
and know from which direction it comes.
Its bound to land on me,
bringing with it clouds, cold rain.
It might make me shiver,
or seek shelter.
Or I might just take it.
Some memories escape me- As I reside in the senility of twenty. Names and faces have been misplaced, and as I search, I am misled. Finding it difficult to place a finger on anything, let alone myself, I fold my hands instead.