All day long and I’m looking forward to losing myself.
After work and a warm bath eases aching bones. A cigarette to make everything calm. Dressed in my best, the mirror shows that I’m a regular guy. But the mirror is false. A little food and then a walk a back into town. To a bar where drinks are served with abandon. The people I know are waiting for me. They’re already drunk, so I do my best to catch up. It doesn’t take long. I drink a few shots with every pint, and it makes me feel good. In my head at least. Physically, I’m falling apart. Standing outside in the beer garden, I forget who I am. People are talking to me, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. Some girl in a dress tries chatting me up, but I just look up at the sky. All those galaxies. All those black holes. It makes me tremble so I down my drink in fear. The vastness of space. The infinite nature of the universe. And this girl with a too big mouth talking about nothing in particular.
Eventually she leaves, but I’m still looking up at the sky. Sucking on my cigarette, I become dizzy at the thought of it all.
There’s nothing better than to drink for the sake of drinking. Surrounded by flesh, my only desire is to lose myself. I’m not being social. I’m being strange, or maybe it’s aloof? Either way, I watch others and their drunken antics. It fascinates me. Y’know, the mundane banality of it all. Guys trying to lay girls. Girls pouting to catch the guys. There’s a shit load of cleavage going on. It’s okay I guess, I won’t lie. I’m only a man after all. But a pair of tits is a pair of tits. Ain’t no magic there, it’s all in the soul. I try telling this to my friend, but he doesn’t understand. He says I should make a move on the girl from before, but I tell him she’s not my type. She’s got no magic, I say. Just the thought of it bores me. He claims that I’m fucking mad, and I agree with him. There’s a web of fornication being spread around me. Matters of the carnal variety are in the ascendency. I try to imagine what couples are going to have the best sex, but soon lose interest. Ordering a whiskey and coke, I go outside again and sit down. Surrounded by insects, I blow smoke in their faces whilst continuing to look up at the sky.
All those far away planets. Those stars that have been dead for years.
In the early hours, I’m walking back home all wankered and poetic. Treading through an empty field, I sit down on a park bench and feel completely at one with the universe above my head. There’s a connection between me and those far away galaxies, something that others will never know. Those that don’t have the magic, they just don’t understand. This state of being leaves me on the verge of some revelation. I’m not sure what, but a great truth is waiting to be discovered, but it somehow eludes me. Drinking my bottled beer and lighting a smoke, I sit there in darkness and reminisce over the past. It makes me both happy and sad. All those lost days, never to return again. I wish with all I have, that those days could become real once more. But just looking up at all those dead stars tells me that a memory is all they will ever be to me now. It’s the worst kind of tragedy. The worst kind of pain. Getting up and stumbling through unknown side streets, I toss my empty bottle into a bush and beg to be obliterated.
For oblivion is where I truly Belong.