Engaged in the endless flow of liquor, it's medicinal tide cascades over my thoughts, in shades of aqua blue potency. Its saturated bliss washing out with the tide, all futile attempts, at even the most elementary of understanding. As I slowly begin to succumb to the lukewarm apathy that follows, I welcome it's numbing effect with open arms, like a long, lost friend. Submitting to the elixor, shapes fade and colours blur. Creating a hodgepodge of retinal drivel, that is all the more meaningless, in the grand scheme of things.
Slumped against the grimy club wall, my companion stares blankly, in his own, alcohol-induced stupor. Neither alive nor dead, the culmination of the evening's festivities leave him in a state, of psychological purgatory. Labotomized by sheer boredom, and disgusted with his surroundings, he ventures forth to the bar, where yet another tawdry club slut awaits him, with a pre-paid shot of liquid happiness. Another bullet for his liver, in the vain attempt to soothe his frustrations. However, not being one to turn down booze nor affections, as cheap and fleeting as both may be, he eagerly accepts the invitation, and disappears into the crowd of social misfits. Leaving me behind to fend for myself. A sullen face, in a crowd of painted smiles, and masked termoil.
I feel my head nod with fatigue, as my eyes begin to carry the weight of too many vodka shots, and withheld tears.
Suddenly, my mind begins to spew out memories, with all the randomness of a street mugging. Pouncing on my conciousness, with the tenacity of a rabid dog. Shaking loose names and faces, I spent years drowing out with drink, and cutting out of my skin. Scrubbing myself raw, I know I can never fully be sanatized of them, as the contamination resides wthin. Forever attached, like some parasitic twin, in the carnival sideshow of my existance.
A strange pair of eyes bekon me into the dungeon. With either pain or sex offering a temporary reprieve from the unwanted retrospection, I'll take whichever is offered up first, and make the best of it.
At best, I will forget. At worst, I'll run out of places to bruise, or people to fuck.
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