Question: Since when did whiskey become a dessert wine?
Answer: Since the day I was disassembled, left for dead, then reborn confused, absent and disappointed.
I saw her piercing razor blade eyes across a sea of pedestrians today. The eyes that I fear, but I’m secretly in love with, were watching me. I felt my dissection from across the boardwalk, just making me burn and itch in discomfort. Moments later, she was gone again; with her vagrant, devilish smile still clawing at my heart.
It triggered those white flashes. The flashes that makes the air taste stale, and my body start to shiver. Through the smoke I saw we had children together, and she was a neurotic fucking mess, but efficient as hell… Then I began to choke. This always happens when I come to. A little hyperventilation like a panic attack, followed by silly Hollywood melodramatics of checking my back pocket for my wallet.
Shit.
I’m not even a thief, and I would definitely go for a freaked out loon’s wallet, at the apex of his future trip.
Regardless, we’ve never met, but I know her. I feel her when she’s hunting me masquerading behind the shadows of people, in broad daylight.
But the reality of it all, I’m still stuck here. Seeing and moving between the future and the present, or not; I’m still stuck here. Stuck here, peddling my misanthropic musings of a delusional cock-sucker. (That’s me). I still return to this cramped pad with a less than ambitious lover staring me in the face asking: What’s for Dinner?
I breathe the air to see if it’s stale, and then I realize that this is all real, and not a forecast of fair weather for Meriwether. When I close my eyes though, I see the threads of fate which guide us all. Mine are not hard to miss, they are the ones illuminated with a path paved with sadness and gold.
… I just dozed off. And I kept fighting a field of white. I don’t want to see anything else; unless it’s my freedom.