Nine bottles of wine did it. No concerns. Not here. Not right now. World does not matter. It is music. It is wine. Carefree. If only today. This is the story of three hours. Life is not that difficult. Here. Right now. But it will end. The night will end. And I have no place to go.
Things are not all right. World is falling apart. Ought to stop thinking. Useless to think. Eyes melt into tears. My Self I cannot control. Detest this coseismic stance. Insignificant situations become tragic. A flat tire. Words replied silently. An outburst must be coming soon. It is all chaos today.
Still waiting. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone to come.Wish it were 35 instead. Or 40. Or 45. What am I waiting for? I am tired of repetition. Year after year the same grievance. Do not know why I insist on postponing death.
