Thursday, 12 March 2015

Lacuna


The sky blears red. Another nail in the coffin as each day passes. A slow descent into alcoholism disguised by an appreciation of hops and different glasses. A wretched thing, flaunting it's effete irrelevancy like a badge of honour. It languidly drapes itself over a chair, letting you look but not touch. Excising regrets and amputating grime with wads of hundred dollar bills. Life is easy for some. Others cry hopeless tears and barely know what food is.

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