I Intend to Be Smashed within the Half Hour

There’s a very simple solution to all this, and it’s more whiskey.

You say you want a drink, but you just want more anonymity or its opposite–I never could keep it straight (which side are we on anymore?), but you could, yeah? No?

Begbegbegbeg.

I like the shuffle, the vague grunts, the breakdown of communication.
We’re reduced to the physical.
And it’s going to come to blood, blows, fucking, or all of the above.

But we don’t have time for feelings these days, do we?
Do we?

One shot to bisect my heart. Another shot to prop me up. One more to numb whatever’s left inside. A toast to the sky just because, for bravery. And one more for good luck.
I lost the shot glasses; it’s just whiskeyneck and one determined set of lips. I brought mine; what are you going to do with yours?

I wish I could fall back on “I don’t know how we got here,” but I know damn well.

I’ve been prying people apart, and it’s not fair because I don’t think they know it. And I have all the best lines because I understand logic perfectly well. And perfectly sane and rational, well-adjusted people wouldn’t bother with all the hoops, loops, and freefalls to pull off something so fucking simple in the first place. And they’re always convinced; they nod and agree. Rational. Sound. Logical. Perfectly reasonable. So, he must be genuine, right?

Wrong.

Because I don’t enjoy results. I don’t even want those disgusting things near me. If I die and wake up in either heaven or hell, I’m going to be royally pissed and will be staging a coup within the week. Give me limbo or another go round, instead. Cram my soul back into another meat sack and let me fuck things up again. It’s all about the process. When you’re there at the finish line, though, it’s just over and done with. Boring.

So, yeah, I’m unlike the other boys in your life. Me and Tom Petty, though (we have an understanding, you see?), we got one thing in common: “One foot in the grave; one foot on the pedal.” This is a hero I want, right? He’s looking like a zombie these days. Well, hey, this is how we get to live forever.

Just let the fuck go. Let me do this. I’m good at it. And I really need to get something right.

And our half hour is up.