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After my third coke I decided today was going to be a quick day. Tight. Plugged in. too much time in bed, in pyjamas, in pain, in my room, protecting my housemates from the vicious tongue that comes from my sore head. Out. About. Coffee. More coffee. Quick trip into town to prove I still exist, enjoy the crowds and bustle, spending money I don't have on things I want rather than need. More coffee? Another coke? Can I mix them? Add booze? On a bus, bladder itching, on the Bristol Road Birmingham's carotid link to the south, involved in the world again. Music. Skipping slow stuff and the classical, fast and loud, people looking at me. Fuck Em. Till deaf do us part, at least they can see me here, not ghosting in my room looking for painkillers.
Crashing now, shaky hands and slightly confused, way too irritable for work. Which I have to go do.
gah
Crashing now, shaky hands and slightly confused, way too irritable for work. Which I have to go do.
gah
2 Comments:
"Ghosting in my room..."
You coined a phrase/term!
At any rate, glad you are back and feeling better.
thanks man,
occasionaly when writing stuff in my head, my brain will throw together words that make NO sense what-so-ever, and occasionaly i will be aware of them and write them down.
that was one of them.
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