Sodden glimpses through jaded glass on hostile bar stools, the bar tender barking mad with machismo exclaims "I like my women like I like my tables, sturdy and on all fours" The filth germinated laughter and I got up to piss. The accursed velcro floor thick with the days grief made the treturous decent to empty my bowls almost fetal; I feel like a survivor. Bear Grills eat your heart out.
The night is a dangerous mix of poltergists and ghosts I never mix my spirits, Leaving. The outside, God it's been a life time a gesticulating tree gave me the finger. It's that time of the night. The outside; purposeless oxygen and pre-packed death, this inhaling game was proving to be a bother.
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