"it's fucking freezing". again. we pass the fortified bottle frequently coz neither of us wants to hog it. it's too nasty to drink.
i'm reminded of england, gagging on red wine. cheap, cold, screwtop. it's like trying to gulp medicine but we get it down. we decide to walk home even though the weather is ball ache. fuck taxis, man. i just can't bring myself to pay a tenner to save an hour walk when an hour's work is a fiver.
we move and the wine hits me. suddenly i'm surrounded by urban treachery. wind tunnels of swinging lamposts and benches with missing wrungs. concrete slabs that duck and dive. land you with a full frontal return to gravity. i'm wasted, scrambling around in other people's gardens. i find a bike. it's small. maybe a kids. try to ride it but fall off. again and again till i get mad and shout, arguing with the bike, ending the discussion by throwing it in a dumpster. then i'm running wild. flailing, bleeding, screaming at god in the skies. what the fuck am i doing? i'm fucking lost. where's jack? he's here. he's holding me up. wait. who the fuck are you? this isn't jack at all! fuck THIS asshole!
then i wake up. before i move, the first thing i'm aware of is that it hurts. i twitch my foot and i'm still in shoes. bad signs. sit up. im wet. soaked, in fact. there's handfuls of broken glass in my jacket pocket. the beer bottle must have exploded. thank xenu i was wearing the leather.
No comments:
Post a Comment